


Something Good

by ttakjoha (nematoda)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But I promise it's still, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Jackson is a ball of sunshine, Jaebum is Mr. Grumpy Gills, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Violence, Pining, Reluctant Friendship, Slow Build, also I threw in some, and accidental drugging, don't let it deter you if sexy times aren't your jam, everyone is repressing their feelings, more like, no real sexy times here, questionable morals from minor characters, the rating is M because I cuss and mention dicks an awful lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 60,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nematoda/pseuds/ttakjoha
Summary: Jaebum is kind of a bummer of a human being. Jackson wants to fix that.





	1. Something Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fangirlingprobs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingprobs/gifts).



“Please don’t make me socialize,” Jinyoung moans from his spot at their shared desk, sitting with his head smashed face-first into his biology textbook, attempting again to learn through osmosis (the only biology term Jaebum could remember with any certainty, and that was only because Jinyoung had prayed daily for it to become possible for studying purposes since he had learned the term a week ago). He tilts his head so that his cheek rests against the open pages, and the single eye visible through his bangs squints sadly. Jaebum makes a face at him. Jinyoung sure can look pathetic sometimes. Well, most of the time. He’s just got that kind of face. “I’m so tired, and I have a test on this shit on Monday, and I hate people. Like, all people.”

“It’s Youngjae’s first college party,” Jaebum sighs, futzing with his hair in front of their only mirror, a cheap plastic number duct-taped to their closet door. “Are you really going to miss it to study? I mean, I know you’re a nerd, but this is taking it to new levels.”

“He’ll understand,” Jinyoung whines. It’s true, Youngjae will understand if Jinyoung stays home to study. He’s wholesome and forgiving like that. But that’s beside the point.

“I refuse to stand in front of him and watch the look on his face when I tell him you’re not coming. If you’re really bailing on him, you’re calling him and telling him yourself.”

Jinyoung pouts dramatically. Jaebum knows perfectly well that Youngjae is the exception to every rule Jinyoung has. Growing up, Youngjae followed him around like a puppy, taking the term “hero worship” to a new level. Now, he’s less doe-eyed and more sensible, but he would still be crushed that his favorite hyung isn’t coming to his first college party. Especially since he hasn’t shut up about how excited he is for the past week.

Jinyoung groans, at long last letting his conscience get the best of him, and shoves himself up from the desk, slamming his textbook shut. He heads to the closet and begins rifling through Jaebum’s side, which Jaebum left open after choosing his own outfit. Before Jaebum can shut the door, Jinyoung pulls out the maroon button-down shirt he’s been side-eyeing since Jaebum bought it last semester. He holds it up under his chin and turns to Jaebum, pouting.

“I’ll go if I can wear this.”

“Absolutely not,” Jaebum says, grabbing the shirt, ignoring Jinyoung’s indignant whine, returning the shirt to the closet, and slamming the door.

“You are the worst roommate ever. Have I told you that recently? Have I told you how much I hate you and I regret ever meeting you?”

“Not lately, no,” Jaebum says calmly. Almost every conversation with Jinyoung escalates into hyperbole eventually. Jaebum has learned that it’s best not to engage. He opens Jinyoung’s side of the closet and flips through the hangers, looking for something decent that doesn’t feature elastic as one of its primary components (Jinyoung has stated on more than one occasion that he fashions his wardrobe around the concept of being able to nap at a moment’s notice). “Here, what about this?”

After fifteen minutes of coaxing a constantly whining Jinyoung into something nice enough to leave the apartment (he doesn’t look as nice as Jaebum, but honestly, when does he ever dress as nice as Jaebum? He swears he keeps his nice clothes back home, because he only needs the bare minimum to get around campus, and he’s not trying to impress anyone anyways, but Jaebum isn’t biting. The boy owns sweater vests, for the love of god. Plural, as in _more than one sweater vest_ ), the pair heads out, bundled into autumn coats and tucked under an umbrella to avoid the bone-chilling rain that always seems to plague their campus this time of year.

Jinyoung naturally spends the whole walk complaining, making elaborate vows of how he will murder Jaebum in exceedingly creative ways if he fails his biology test on Monday because of “some stupid college party.” The walk to Youngjae’s dorm is short, but so is Jaebum’s patience, and he can’t help but let out a loud sigh of relief at the sight of Youngjae, fidgeting excitedly under the awning of his dorm building. (Well, he _can_ help sighing, but he doesn’t, because the offended look on Jinyoung’s face is priceless. Maybe he also threw in a quiet _oh thank god._ Whatever, he’s no angel.)

“Hyung!” Youngjae calls out, opening his own umbrella and practically prancing through the rain to greet them, his breath puffing out in quick, steamy bursts. Jaebum finds himself smiling automatically. It’s hard not to; this kid’s enthusiasm is contagious. “I’m so glad you’re here! I was starting to get worried.”

“It was a near thing,” Jaebum says solemnly, nudging Jinyoung with his elbow. “This one almost ditched you for a biology textbook.”

“Just for that, I’m walking with Youngjae,” Jinyoung says, darting out from Jaebum’s umbrella and under Youngjae’s with a positively wounded look on his face. Jaebum shrugs, causing the wounded look to deepen into a full-blown glare. Jinyoung links his arm pointedly through Youngjae’s, turns his nose up, and begins walking, dragging Youngjae with him. “C’mon, he can walk by himself. Where are we going?”

Youngjae’s laugh rings out, clear as a bell and just as melodious, as he steers Jinyoung in the correct direction. “It’s this way, hyung. Only a few more blocks.”

“Whose party is this again?” Jinyoung asks, switching quickly from woe-is-me mode into disgruntled-party-pooper mode.

“It’s one of my sunbaes from the veterinary school,” Youngjae says. “Mark-hyung. He’s American.”

“And why exactly did he invite us to his party?” Jaebum asks, purposely talking over the sound of distaste that erupts from Jinyoung at the word “American,” lest he go unchecked and start another rant about foreigners.

“He didn’t, exactly,” Youngjae says, sounding anxious. “He invited me, and told me to bring anyone I wanted, so… I hope this is okay. Do you think it’s okay? He probably meant for me to bring girls, but I don’t know any girls, and I just really didn’t want to go alone--”

“If he’s American, I’m sure it will be fine,” Jinyoung gripes, cutting off Youngjae’s nervous babbling. “He’s probably one of those insufferably friendly types. If he so much as hints at the phrase, ‘the more the merrier,’ I swear to god--”

“Jinyoung-ah, will you kindly shut up and stop ruining Youngjae’s first college party before he even arrives?”

“It’s all right, Jaebum-hyung, I know he’s just cranky,” Youngjae says absentmindedly, looking at the house numbers as they pass by. Jinyoung’s indignant noise is cut off midway as Youngjae jerks him to a halt in front of a tall red brick apartment building. The three stand in silence for a moment, looking up at the building. “Well, we’re here… It’s probably too late to go home and pretend I got sick, right?”

“Not at all! Let’s go,” Jinyoung says, dragging Youngjae away from the stoop and straight into Jaebum, who takes a moment to give him his very best judgmental look. Jinyoung rolls his eyes and turns around again, pulling Youngjae up the front steps after him, ignoring Youngjae’s nervous squeak. “Fine, let’s get this over with. I still have to study tonight.”

They enter the lobby, Jaebum and Jinyoung shaking out and folding up the umbrellas as Youngjae runs his finger down the list of residents, stopping at number twenty-two, “Tuan/Wang,” and ringing the buzzer. After a few tense moments during which Jinyoung begins a new rant about _what kind of an American has a name like Tuan, shouldn’t he be called something like Smith or Johnson or Miller,_ and Jaebum quietly reminds him _melting pot, Jinyoung, Americans can be Chinese too, it’s not against the rules,_ the speaker crackles to life, causing Youngjae to jump near out of his skin.

“Hello?” A laughing voice says, over the sound of loud conversation and even louder music.

“Mark-hyung? It’s Choi Youngjae? From school? You invited me to your party?”

“Youngjae-ah! Come on up!”

The door buzzes loudly, followed by the clank of a heavy lock unlocking, and the group makes their way into the building and up the stairs. When they find number twenty-two, Youngjae pauses, breathing shakily and staring at the door, seemingly with no intention to knock. After nearly a minute of waiting for Youngjae to make a move, Jaebum sighs, reaches past him, and knocks sharply. Youngjae squeaks in surprise.

The door opens to reveal quite possibly the prettiest boy Jaebum has ever seen. He’s shorter than Jaebum, but not by much, and has the kind of graceful, slender body that only genetics can create. His skin is fucking _flawless,_ perfectly accenting the delicately shaped features of his face that make him look like something out of a Renaissance painting. Jaebum is just puzzling over why Youngjae called him a sunbae when this kid can’t possibly be older than seventeen, when the person in question clasps Youngjae’s hand, pulling him forward into a half-hug in a way that strikes Jaebum as almost painfully stereotypical, and clapping him on the back.

“Youngjae! I’m so glad you made it!” the guy who must be Mark says, releasing Youngjae and smiling widely, showing off far too many perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Youngjae, clearly shaken by the sudden skinship, bows awkwardly. Mark turns his thousand-watt smile on Jinyoung, the effect of his teeth making him look curiously... sharky. “And who is this?”

“I brought some friends, I hope that’s okay,” Youngjae says, snapping out of his daze. He pushes Jinyoung forward first, then Jaebum. “This is Park Jinyoung, and Im Jaebum.”

“No problem at all! Come on in!” Mark says, nodding briefly at Jaebum before looking back to Jinyoung, who is being uncharacteristically quiet. “The more the merrier!”

Mark turns and leads the way into the apartment, Youngjae following behind like a puppy on his heels. Jaebum begins to follow them before noticing that Jinyoung is not moving and appears to have no intention of doing so, standing perfectly still with eyes wide and mouth hung open.

“What? No sarcastic comment about ‘the more the merrier’?” Jaebum asks, nudging Jinyoung, who jumps, looking shaken.

“Huh?”

“Never mind...”

They make their way into the living room, where at least a dozen people are milling about, holding beer cans and talking loudly. Mark is shouting over the music, pointing out different things and people to Youngjae, who simply nods, awestruck. He leads Youngjae around, beginning to make introductions, and Jaebum, still dragging a shell-shocked Jinyoung by the hand, decides they’re better off finding a place to sit and letting the new people come to them. He finds an empty spot on a couch and pushes Jinyoung onto it, pointing a finger at him with the dad-like warning of “stay here,” before heading off in search of alcohol, which he sorely needs if he’s going to make it through this night.

He finds it in the kitchen, taking the form of beer and more beer. Only a handful of liquor bottles are present, the majority of them already drained. Beer it is then--Jinyoung’s least favorite drink in the world. One more thing for him to bitch about. _Hooray._ He grabs two cans, slipping around already intoxicated partygoers, and returns to Jinyoung, who is sitting with his hands between his knees, staring across the room with a haunted look on his face.

“Do you know him or something?” Jaebum asks, plopping down next to Jinyoung and pushing the beer into his hands. The object of Jinyoung’s attention is across the room with Youngjae, introducing him to two very young, foreign-looking boys. Jaebum briefly wonders if every foreigner just looks younger than they are or if he’s being incredibly racist.

“No.” Jinyoung cracks his beer open and chugs the whole thing in one go, lowering the empty can with a grimace. He wipes at his mouth and belches loudly, earning him some judgmental looks from nearby partygoers.

“Dude, you don’t even like beer.”

“No, I don’t,” Jinyoung agrees absentmindedly, not taking his gaze off of the host, who is laughing cutely, squeezing Youngjae’s arm. Jinyoung licks his lips, and Jaebum cracks open his beer, deciding he is definitely not drunk enough for whatever this shit is. He takes a couple of long pulls.

Youngjae turns and points at Jaebum and Jinyoung, who stiffens minutely as he is caught staring. The two young boys smile and wave. Jaebum nods. Jinyoung swallows loudly. Mark tilts his head to the side, smiling awkwardly.

“I need more beer,” Jinyoung announces, standing abruptly. He’s already moving to the kitchen before Jaebum can stop him. “Do you want a beer? I’ll get you a beer.”

“I haven’t even finished--ah, fuck it, who cares,” Jaebum sighs as Jinyoung disappears. Jaebum watches Mark watch Jinyoung with a curious look on his face. Mark leans over, yells something to Youngjae, and heads into the kitchen. Jaebum decides now is as good a time as any to finish the rest of his beer, because he sure as hell is going to need it if whatever is going on between those two escalates. He chugs the rest and crushes the can, regretting it immediately. Something about drinking beer has him feeling a bit too much like a frat boy, if he’s being honest with himself.

Jaebum is so busy thanking his lucky stars that he can’t see into the kitchen from his vantage point that he doesn’t notice a man on the other end of the couch slowly scooting toward him until their thighs are touching. He jumps at the sudden contact, looking up into big brown eyes only a few centimeters away from his own. Jaebum leans back enough to be able to see the man’s whole face, which is tilted to the side like a curious puppy.

“Who are you?”

Jaebum laughs awkwardly, not sure if this is a joke or if the guy just really doesn’t have any manners. How many foreigners are at this party anyway?

“Im Jaebum. I’m a friend of Choi Youngjae, who’s a friend of the host.”

“The host?” the guy asks, darting his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. Jaebum, already feeling a little buzzed, takes a moment to appreciate the sight of said lip, which is plump and very pink and now shiny after being licked. He nods dumbly. “But I’m the host. And I don’t know any Choi Youngjae.”

“Really?” Jaebum asks, tearing his gaze away from the dude’s mouth and looking down at the crushed can in his hands. He fiddles with the pop tab for a moment. “I thought this was Mark Tuan’s party.”

“Ahh,” the guy says, nodding knowingly before cupping a hand to his mouth. “MARK!”

Jaebum reels back from the noise, holding his ear and wincing. The least he could do is warn a guy, honestly, his face was right there--

“What’s up?” The head of Mark pokes out of the doorway to the kitchen, looking a little guilty and more than a little flushed.

The guy sitting next to him gestures vaguely at Jaebum. “Do you know this guy?”

“Yeah, that’s uhh… Jaebum! He’s Youngjae’s friend,” Mark says, pointing across the room to where Youngjae is still talking animatedly with the two foreign boys. “I told you about Youngjae, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember, _Mark,_ ” the guy hollers, emphasizing the hard ‘r’ sound in a way that Jaebum could never figure out in all his years of public school English, but Mark is already gone. The guy shrugs and turns back to Jaebum, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously. “I’m Jackson Wang. Mark is my roommate, and this is my party.”

“Ah, I see,” Jaebum says, prying his hand away and going back to playing with his crushed can. He’s just managed to work the pop tab off and stuff it inside the can when he notices Jackson still staring at him. He turns to look at him. “Uh, can I help you with something?”

“You are very handsome,” Jackson says, licking his lips again. Jaebum laughs awkwardly, not sure if this is some kind of weird joke or what but he’s definitely not being hit on, probably. He never did understand Western humor anyways. “Why are you laughing? I’m being serious.”

“Oh.” Jaebum looks away again, feeling his face heat up. Maybe this is some foreign courtesy thing he’s never heard of before? “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Here, take my beer, yours is empty.”

“No thanks, I was just about to go get another--”

“No really, I insist,” Jackson says, taking Jaebum’s crumpled can away and replacing it with his own unopened one. “I didn’t even put my mouth on it yet. See?”

“Thanks.” Jaebum is definitely not picturing Jackson’s mouth on… things. He’s really not.

“I don’t need alcohol anyways,” Jackson announces, leaning back and stretching. “I get drunk on life!”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“Nah, it's great. I save a lot of money,” Jackson says with a wink that is far too suggestive to accompany that sentence. Jaebum opens the beer and gulps at it desperately. “Hey, you go to school here, right? What's your major?”

“Accounting.”

“Ugh, really?” Jackson's face wrinkles up cutely. “You like that?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Why do it then?”

“It pays well, and there are great benefits,” Jaebum rattles off the list by rote. It’s the list he repeats to himself when he sits in class, wishing he was anywhere else doing anything other than studying accounting. “Plus nobody really wants to do it, so I'll always have a job.”

“That sounds terrible,” Jackson says, eyes wide. “And you're okay with doing something you hate for the rest of your life? Until you _die?”_

“I didn't say I hate it, I just don't really like it,” Jaebum says defensively. “Besides, I hate to break it to you, but most people work jobs they don't really like their whole lives until they die.”

“Why are you so sad?” Jackson asks softly. Jaebum chokes on his beer. “What happened to you to make you so sad?”

“I’m not sad,” Jaebum protests between gasping coughs. His eyes water from the sting of beer in his windpipe. Jackson claps him roughly on the back.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m just… not happy.”

“Jaebum-ssi, that’s called _‘sad,’”_ Jackson deadpans.

“No, that’s normal. Normal people aren’t perpetually full of joy. The opposite of happy isn’t sad.”

Jackson looks baffled. “What is the opposite of happy then?”

“I don’t know… indifference?” Jaebum guesses, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. He lost track of how this conversation escalated so quickly, and how Jackson got so close that their thighs are perfectly lined up, hip to knee, denim to denim.

“What’s that? I don’t know that word.” Jaebum can actually feel Jackson’s breath on his face. He’s having trouble focusing.

“Like, you don’t care about anything. Nothing matters.”

“How can you say that so lightly?” Jackson breathes, eyes round with something like concern. Jaebum leans back a bit, hoping to put some distance between them, but Jackson follows him, closing the space as quickly as it’s created. “There’s so much that matters! Food, for instance. Cheese? You _have_ to care about cheese.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“What about sunrises?”

“I’m not really a morning person.”

“Sunsets, then.” Jackson’s getting frustrated.

“I dunno, I never really pay it much attention.”

“Good jokes? Your friends? _Puppies?”_

“I don’t really like dogs.”

“Oh my god, you’re dead inside!” Jackson exclaims, standing abruptly and throwing his hands in the air. He grabs Jaebum’s empty beer can--wait, wasn’t that full just a minute ago?--and shakes it at him like a newspaper at a puppy. “I’m going to get you another beer, and you’re going to sit here and think about what would make you less of a sad sack of shit. Okay? Okay.”

Jackson storms off to the kitchen, and Jaebum watches him go, taking note of a frankly rather impressive set of thighs. He must work out. He must work out _a lot._

Jaebum thinks for a moment about Jackson’s accusations. Is he really a sad sack of shit? Jinyoung has always called him a stick in the mud, but he still put up with being his roommate just fine. Plus Youngjae seems to like him well enough. Although it’s hard to picture Youngjae actually disliking someone… Still, that has to count for something.

Not that he cares at all what Jackson and his incredible thighs think of him, Jaebum reminds himself. Not that he even noticed that Jackson _has_ incredible thighs.

Jackson returns as quickly as he left with two unopened beers in his hands. He resumes his previous position, scooting up on Jaebum until their legs are so close together not even a paperclip could fit between them. Jaebum is just beginning to think that Jackson is fucking with him when Jackson hands him one of the cans and sets the other on the floor, turning to face him with a serious expression.

“Did you think of something?”

Jaebum shakes his head dumbly. He spent so much time thinking about Jackson’s physique that he completely forgot to make up a bullshit answer.

“You’re really fast,” Jaebum explains lamely. Shit, is he getting drunk already? He looks at the can in his hands, shrugs, and cracks it open. Hey, free beer is free beer is free beer.

“It’s okay,” Jackson says, patting him sympathetically on the thigh. Jaebum sips at his beer and tries not to think about how unnecessarily high up on his leg Jackson’s hand is. “I ran into your roommate--Jingyun? Jiyoung? Whatever--and he said that you’re kind of a bummer of a human being. Don’t worry! He also told me the one thing he knows of that makes you less boring: music.”

Jaebum feels his face soften. He hadn’t planned on revealing his most carefully kept secret to a total stranger, but between the beer and the way Jackson looks at him like a kicked puppy, he can feel it on the verge of bubbling out. Only three people in the world know about Jaebum’s secret obsession with music: Jinyoung (because he caught Jaebum singing one of his original songs in the shower once and demanded to know what group it was from), Youngjae (because Youngjae also loves music with an undying passion and Jinyoung thought they needed something to bond over), and his mother (well, duh). His mom had encouraged him to minor in music theory, but he had never actually gone through with it. After mentioning it casually to his father, he had gotten the anticipated response: _You can’t make a good living off of music. It will distract you. Pick something profitable to study or don’t waste time and money going to school at all._ Jinyoung occasionally nagged him to switch his major to music (usually whenever Jaebum started to complain about accounting), and Jaebum in turn promised that he would study music as soon as Jinyoung dropped psychology and became a drama major. That usually shut him up, for the most part. Except when it came to cute strangers badgering him for intimate details about his roommate, apparently.

 _“Aha!_ Look at your face! You do love something!” Jackson crows, nudging Jaebum with a pointy elbow. “What do you do? Sing? Play an instrument? Let me guess, it’s something dorky like the cello, right?”

“No,” Jaebum says, feeling his face heat up. As if he would play the cello. He’s not _that_ lame. “I sing a little. And I write music... Like, songs. I write songs.”

“You’re a _songwriter?”_ Jackson asks, his lips forming a little ‘o’ of surprise. Jaebum definitely doesn’t stare at them and wonder what they would taste like. “Wow, that’s so cool! Of course you’d be a songwriter.”

“I don’t know if I’d call myself a songwriter, exactly,” Jaebum mumbles, licking the rim of his beer can and willing his face to cool down. “Wait, what do you mean, ‘of course’?”

“You’ve got that whole sexy starving artist look going on,” Jackson says, waving a hand vaguely at Jaebum’s face. Jaebum snorts. “You know, chic but tortured.”

Before Jaebum can fathom a response to whatever the hell _that_ was, Mark pokes his head out of the kitchen.

“Hey! We’re almost out of chips.”

“So go to the convenience store and buy some,” Jackson says, looking annoyed at the interruption. Jaebum suddenly realizes that Jackson is so close he’s practically sitting in his lap. When did that happen?

“Nah, man,” Mark says, shaking his head in a way that makes his hair flip around cutely. Jaebum reflects that he seems to get a lot gayer whenever beer is involved. “Your party, your problem.”

“So why is it that I don’t even know a third of the people here? And how come Jaebum here said he thought this was your party? _Huh?”_

“Fine,” Mark laughs, emerging from the kitchen with a grin that would make stone melt. “We’ll go together. Deal?”

“Deal,” Jackson grumbles, getting up from the couch. He pats his pockets, eventually locating his wallet, and turns to point threateningly at Jaebum. “Don’t leave. I’m not done with you yet.”

Jaebum attempts a smile, despite the goosebumps currently prickling all over his body. “I make no promises.”

“Ah! So chic!” Jackson exclaims, grabbing his head like he’s in pain and leaning back until his shirt lifts up, revealing a sliver of tan, toned stomach above the waistband of black underwear. Just as Jaebum is swallowing thickly and trying desperately to yank his mind out of the gutter, Jackson rights himself and heads out the door, yelling after Mark. “You got keys? I lost mine again…”

As soon as the door slams behind them, Jinyoung emerges from the kitchen, walking very carefully, as though the floor is moving spontaneously beneath him. Uh oh. Jaebum knows that walk.

“I don’t feel so good,” Jinyoung moans, collapsing onto the couch next to Jaebum. He leans back until his head rests against the back of couch, holding his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut.

“How much did you drink?” Jaebum asks, inconspicuously polishing off his current drink and tossing it aside. Jinyoung rubs a hand over his face.

“I don’t even know. Six, I think?” Jinyoung mumbles, belching loudly. “I kind of lost count after two.”

 _“Six?_ Are you insane? We just got here!”

“Correction: we have been here for almost two hours,” Jinyoung slurs, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “He just kept talking to me and I got nervous.”

“Mark, right?” Jaebum asks, feigning ignorance. He definitely gets more horny when he’s drunk, but he also gets more mischievous, and today is no exception. “He’s pretty cute. Do you think he’s single?”

“Don’t you fucking _dare,_ Im Jaebum,” Jinyoung says, popping his head back up and wobbling slightly. “He’s _mine._ I saw him _first.”_

“That’s debatable,” Jaebum says, trying to sound serious. He rubs at his mouth to hide the smirk on his face. Jinyoung is such an easy target when he’s drunk, it’s almost not even fun. Almost. “I mean, I know how much you hate Americans. I’d be doing you a favor, honestly.”

“If you make a move on him, I swear to god I will _throw up on you,”_ Jinyoung threatens with a look that would be terrifying if it weren’t for the way his head is weaving back and forth. “Don’t test me. I’ll do it.”

“All right, lover boy, I’ll let you have him,” Jaebum says, leaning down to pick up the beer Jackson left on the ground. With Jinyoung this wasted, he won’t have to hear the standard lecture about ‘everything in moderation’ and ‘be a good example for Youngjae.’ No nagging from Jinyoung, a hot guy with no sense of personal boundaries--all things considered, this night is turning out pretty well so far.

“Oh my god,” Jinyoung gasps, turning to look at Jaebum with wide eyes. “I think… I told him I like his mouth. Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?”

“What the hell?” Jaebum laughs. Okay, yeah, maybe he’s a little drunk.

“He asked me to say something in English and that’s all I could think of. Oh god, I’m an idiot. He’s just so _pretty.”_

Jaebum hums sympathetically and rubs Jinyoung’s back. They stay like that for a while, Jinyoung recounting all the dumb shit he’d said and Jaebum silently judging him for it. Eventually, Youngjae materializes in front of them, mildly surprising Jaebum and scaring the shit out of Jinyoung.

“Hey hyung,” Youngjae chirps, bouncing on his heels, a beer clasped delicately in both hands. “Are you okay? Are you having fun? Sorry, I didn’t mean to abandon you like that.”

“You!” Jinyoung shouts, pointing an unsteady finger at Youngjae, who pales. “You make us come to this party and then you don’t even hang out with us! So ungrateful!”

“It’s fine,” Jaebum assures quickly, feeling his stomach twist unpleasantly at Youngjae’s downtrodden expression. “He’s just mad that he made a fool of himself in front of Mark.”

“Mark-hyung?” Youngjae asks, looking nervously off to the side. “Do you like him or something?”

 _“No,”_ Jinyoung insists, although it’s slightly less compelling with the way his words are slurring and his dialect comes out. “I absolutely do _not_ like him. His voice is _not_ soft and magical and makes my stomach feel funny. Also, I hate his face. It’s terrible. Really bad.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” a soft voice says from the doorway. Mark and Jackson are there with plastic bags in hand, apparently just returned from the convenience store. Jackson heads to the kitchen, pausing the take the bags from Mark, who saunters (and that really is the only word Jaebum can think of, _saunters--_ he looks like a jungle cat, for fuck’s sake) over to Jinyoung with a smile on his face. “That’s not what you were saying before.”

“That was sneaky,” Jinyoung whines, his upper lip poking out in a pout as he looks back and forth between Youngjae and Mark, “That was mean and sneaky and you guys set me up.”

“Maybe you should lie down for a bit,” Mark says, looking suddenly worried at the way Jinyoung can’t seem to keep his eyes open for more than a couple seconds. He crouches in front of Jinyoung and puts a hand on his knee. “You drank a lot. Do you feel okay?”

“No, I do _NOT FEEL OKAY,_ because of you and your _STUPID FACE!”_ Jinyoung shouts, pointing emphatically at Mark. The movement sets him off balance, and in a second, he’s toppling off the couch and into Mark’s arms. Youngjae and Jaebum hurry forward to help prop Jinyoung up, as Mark wraps a well-muscled arm underneath his shoulders. Jinyoung leans forward until he’s nose to nose with Mark. He squints his eyes and whispers _“I hate you.”_

“Right, I got that,” Mark chuckles. He turns to Youngjae. “I’m gonna take him to my room. Maybe he’ll sleep it off a little.”

“I’m so sorry, hyung! He’s not normally like this!” Youngjae frets. Jinyoung looks back at him over Mark’s shoulder and sticks his tongue out.

“Don’t drink too much, Youngjae, or I’ll tell your mom!”

“Speak for yourself,” Youngjae mutters. As soon as Mark and Jinyoung are out of sight, Youngjae turns to Jaebum, still looking guilty. “Are you okay, though? Are you bored yet? Yugyeom and Bambam were gonna start up Mario Kart, but I can stay here if you want.”

Before he can summon a response, Jaebum feels a heavy arm settle on his shoulders and hot breath gusting on his ear. He shivers.

“Bored? How could he be bored at a party hosted by J-Flawless?” Jackson asks. Jaebum turns to look at him, his face only a few centimeters away.

“Who’s that?”

Jackson’s cocky expression drops immediately into a pout. “Me! Duh!”

Youngjae looks back and forth between them, unsure, and Jaebum sighs.

“It’s fine, Youngjae-ah. Really. Go have fun. I’ll look out for Jinyoung.”

In seconds, Youngjae is gone, scurrying back across the room to the two foreign-looking boys he was talking to earlier. Jaebum slips out from under Jackson’s arm and resumes his spot on the couch.

“So… J-Flawless?”

Jackson plops down next to him, grinning boastfully. “That’s what they call me.”

“Who calls you that?” Jaebum asks, bringing his leg up and twisting in his seat so he can lean back against the armrest of the couch. And if it just so happens that he has a better view of Jackson, well… that’s simply coincidence.

“The ladies,” Jackson says with a lewd wink. Jaebum feels his stomach clench. Jackson’s eyes widen comically and he waves his hands in front of him. “Not really! That’s what my fencing team calls me. We all have nicknames. ‘J’ for Jackson, obviously, and ‘Flawless’ because I had a perfect record my first season on the team.”

“Fencing, huh?” Jaebum asks, feeling like he dodged a bullet and not knowing exactly why.

“Yeah, I’m here on an athletic scholarship,” Jackson says, moving restlessly until he mirrors Jaebum’s posture. “I’m majoring in athletics, too. I figure, if the Olympics never works out, I can teach fencing or physical education someday. I mean, I love kids, I love sports, sounds perfect, right?”

Jaebum shrugs and locates his forgotten beer. He takes a sip. It’s warm.

“What, you don’t like sports?” Jackson asks, incredulous. “But you’re in such good shape!”

Jaebum snorts at that, motioning vaguely at his body. _“This_ is all genetics.” Jackson’s eyes trail up and down Jaebum’s body. “Unfortunate but true. And sports always require teamwork. I’m… not very good at teamwork.”

“What about kids? You have to like kids.”

Jaebum grimaces. “Most children find me inherently untrustworthy. I can’t say I blame them.”

“Oh my god,” Jackson exclaims, leaning back and giving Jaebum another lingering once-over. Jaebum tries to breathe regularly, but it’s getting increasingly difficult. “You need some joy in your life. You know, it’s not a crime to be caught having fun once in a while. Honestly.”

Jaebum looks away, across the room to Youngjae playing video games with his new friends. He’s laughing, that open-mouth, head thrown back cackle that’s so unbecoming but so Youngjae. Jaebum envies him sometimes. To have such enthusiasm in front of complete strangers, without constantly worrying over impressions and opinions… he can’t remember the last time he laughed that hard.

A hand waves in front of his face, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Earth to Jaebum! Stop looking so sad and pay attention to me.”

Jaebum turns back to see Jackson watching him intently, a frown creasing his forehead. He holds back another sigh and smiles weakly.

“What do you want to talk about, Jackson?”

That was apparently the right question to ask, because Jackson burns up the next several hours on an intensive conversation with so many topics that Jaebum loses track. He also loses track of how many beers he’s had, because every time he finishes one, another magically appears in his hand. After a while he stops paying attention to what Jackson is saying and just pays attention to Jackson, trying to etch this enigma of a human being into memory. He’s definitely hot, but not hot like Mark, like he would call in sick to work just to stare at him for a few hours. Jackson is hot in a vulnerable way, like he wants to touch him all over but also wrap him up in blankets and feed him soup.

Jaebum is so busying contemplating which kind of soup he would feed Jackson that he barely notices when Youngjae leaves, or anyone else for that matter, until the last of the guests is gone and they’re alone in the living room.

“What time is it?” Jaebum asks, looking around the empty apartment. Jackson pulls out his phone and checks it.

“Two-thirty.”  
“Shit, I better check on Jinyoung.” Jaebum stands abruptly, wobbles slightly, and heads to the door Mark and Jinyoung had disappeared behind almost three hours ago. He opens the door as quietly as he can manage, given his intoxicated state, and takes a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. Mark and Jinyoung are asleep on a double bed. Mark’s arm is under Jinyoung’s shoulders, supporting his neck, and Jinyoung has one arm and one leg thrown over Mark’s body like he’s trying to trap him there. They’re both breathing deeply, faces lax in sleep, curled up together like they do this every night. Jaebum is just wondering why his chest suddenly feels so achy and tight when a hand rests over his on the door handle and pulls it shut in front of his face.

“Let them sleep,” Jackson says quietly, pulling Jaebum’s hand off of the handle. “Mark’s had a rough week, and your roommate didn’t look much better.”

“Yeah, he needed a break,” Jaebum mumbles, recalling how stressed Jinyoung had been just a few hours ago. He knows Jinyoung will have his head in the morning for letting him sleep in the arms of a total stranger when he should be studying for his biology test. In fact, he’ll probably get an earful for guilting Jinyoung into going to the party at all, but Jaebum doesn’t feel an ounce of regret in his body all the same. Seeing the peaceful look on Jinyoung’s sleeping face is worth every name he’ll be called tomorrow. “Is it okay to leave him here, though?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jackson assures, pushing Jaebum toward the front door. “Here, put your coat on, I’ll walk you home.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Jaebum says as he struggles with his coat, somehow managing to put it on inside out. Jackson just smiles at him, eventually intervening to help him get the coat on correctly. Jaebum is too drunk to be embarrassed. Instead, he thinks about what a nice smile Jackson has.

“I think it is necessary. Let’s go.”

And that’s how Jaebum finds himself being walked home at three in the morning, arm in arm with the force of nature also known as Jackson Wang (the arm in arm part is because Jackson says he’s afraid that he’ll trip and brain himself on the sidewalk, but by how tightly Jackson is holding on, he’s not sure if he believes him). The cool, damp air after the rain stopped helps clear his fuzzy head, and after a while he finds himself enjoying the drone of Jackson’s voice and the warmth of another body so close to his. He turns his head every once in a while to watch the way Jackson’s eyes glint in the streetlights and his breath comes out in little steamy bursts as he prattles on and on.

Jaebum surprises himself by finding his apartment quickly and without any backtracking. _Take that, alcohol._ He tugs his arm free of Jackson’s grip as they reach the front door, ignoring the little pout on Jackson’s face at the loss of contact.

“Do you ever stop talking?” Jaebum asks, failing at hiding the smirk on his face. Jackson looks indignant.

“I wouldn’t have to talk so much if you contributed to a conversation, like, _ever,”_ he huffs, turning to look up at Jaebum’s building. “So this is where you live? Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“I would, but I don’t like you,” Jaebum says, shrugging. Jackson punches his arm.

“Fuck you, I am a delight. Just five minutes, Jaebum? I will actually freeze to death if you make me walk back right now. And then when they find my body, I’ll have typed a note out on my phone that says ‘Im Jaebum murdered me,’ and the cops will come for you--”

“Oh my god, fine, just stop talking.”

Jackson bounces on his toes and raises both hands in the air with a little cheer of delight. Jaebum laughs, shoves him, and leads the way inside.

It’s only once they reach the small studio apartment that he and Jinyoung share that he has the presence of mind to feel embarrassed. Compared to Mark and Jackson’s apartment, their place is a hole. He deliberately does not look at Jackson as they enter, choosing instead to busy himself hanging up his coat and turning on their hand-me-down electric kettle, because maybe a hot cup of tea will get Jackson out of there quicker. After what he hopes has been sufficient time for Jackson to wipe whatever disappointed look he ought to have off of his face, Jaebum turns around, embarrassment dissolving instantly into irritation.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

Jackson is kneeling on the ground, busy rolling out Jaebum and Jinyoung’s futons next to each other. Jackson’s coat is hung on the hook next to Jaebum’s (wait, when did _that_ happen?), and his tan hoodie is folded neatly on the couch, revealing nothing but a tight black tank top underneath. Jackson plops onto one of the futons _(Jaebum’s futon)_ , draws his knees up to his chest, and looks at Jaebum with a pathetic expression, not unlike a cat left out in the rain.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“No way! You said you wanted to warm up for a few minutes, not spend the night!”

“I’m not warm enough yet,” Jackson whines, rolling backward with his arms still clasped around his legs and flopping onto his side. He tugs Jaebum’s comforter over him and sighs. “Much better. I’ll just stay here, then.”

Jaebum storms over the Jackson and yanks the comforter off of him. Jackson whimpers pathetically.

“Absolutely not,” Jaebum says, nudging at Jackson with his foot. “Get up, get dressed, and get out.”

Just then, the kettle dings, and Jackson is up before Jaebum has time to blink, pulling two mugs off the dish rack and rifling through the cabinet for tea bags.

“You get ready for bed, I’ll make tea,” Jackson says, completely ignoring Jaebum’s dumbstruck expression. “Let me guess… chamomile, right? You seem like the type that takes it unsweetened too, hmm? I bet all this honey is Jinyoungie’s--”

“Jackson.”

“Hmm?” Jackson doesn’t look up, carefully pouring water over the tea bags.

“Go home.”

“I can’t,” Jackson says with a fake-regretful shrug. He passes one of the steaming mugs to Jaebum and goes back to sit on the futon with his own mug. He pats the spot next to him, ignoring Jaebum’s scowl.

“If it’s because you’re cold, that is no excuse--”

“No, I can’t because Jinyoung is sleeping in my bed.”

“Jinyoung is sleeping in _Mark’s_ bed,” Jaebum says slowly, as though talking to a child.

 _“Mark and I share a bed,”_ Jackson says, mimicking Jaebum’s condescending tone. Jaebum clenches his jaw, something hot and unpleasant coiling in his stomach. Jackson rolls his eyes. “Not like that, you pervert. It’s just that Mark already had a double bed when we moved in together, and I didn’t have any money to buy my own, so. We share.”

“Sleep on the couch then,” Jaebum says, twitching out of his dumbstruck pose and setting down the mug Jackson handed him. Jackson pauses in the midst of blowing on his tea to make a face.

“That couch is so uncomfortable, I’ll never fall asleep.”

“Your own floor, then.”

“By the time I get all the way back there and manage to fall asleep, I’ll get maybe two hours before I have to get up for fencing practice.”

“Not my problem,” Jaebum says, peeling off his sweater and hanging it up.

“I could be distracted from exhaustion,” Jackson says dramatically, placing his free hand over his heart. “I could get stabbed. How would you like to have that on your conscience?”

“You’re a fencer, you get stabbed on a daily basis,” Jaebum deadpans.

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Jackson sniffs, indignant. “Come on, one night, and I’ll be gone before you even wake up. No funny business, I swear.”

Jaebum sighs, the hour and the alcohol weighing on him and disintegrating his resolve. “Fine. But not a word of this to anyone.”

Jackson squeals in glee, immediately snuggling down into the bed like he belongs there. He watches Jaebum over the rim of his mug, lips pursed as he continues to blow on his tea. Jaebum feels heat creeping up his throat, suddenly self-conscious.

“Turn around so I can change, at least.”

Jackson complies with a devilish grin, scooting around to face the wall behind him. Jaebum yanks off his nice clothes in record time, slipping into sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt in seconds flat. Once again fully clothed, he takes his time hanging up his clothes, reckoning that they could be worn again before needing to be washed. By the time he shuts the closet door, Jackson has turned around again.

“Hey! Did I say you could turn around?”

“Oh, please, I didn’t see anything, other than you being anal-retentive about your clothes,” Jackson mutters as Jaebum approaches him. Jaebum nudges Jackson not-so-gently off of his futon and onto Jinyoung’s, and proceeds to pull the two mattresses a meter apart, like they normally are, ignoring the pout he gets in response. “Hey, aren’t you going to drink your tea?”

“I don’t like chamomile,” Jaebum says, scooting under his comforter and rolling to face the wall, away from Jackson. He pulls the blanket up around his ears for good measure.

“No chamomile, got it,” Jackson hums thoughtfully. Jaebum feels his stomach flip unpleasantly at the implication in Jackson’s tone.

“Turn out the lights when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir.”

After a few minutes, the lights go out, and Jaebum can hear Jackson squirming around on the futon beside him. It takes Jackson less than ten minutes to fall asleep, snoring lightly like he’s slept there his whole life. Jaebum bites his lip to keep the smile off of his face, even though Jackson is asleep and the room is dark, because it’s cheesy and cute and Jaebum is anything but cheesy and cute. It doesn’t take long for his own eyes to slide shut, and eventually he finds himself drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	2. Skyway

Jaebum wakes to the sound of the door slamming. He looks up just in time to see Jinyoung run past him into their tiny bathroom, eyes panicked and hand held over his mouth. In seconds, the sounds of Jinyoung violently vomiting fill the apartment. Jaebum groans and pulls his pillow over his ears, wishing for the millionth time that he could afford to live alone.

By the time Jinyoung is done puking his guts out and brushing his teeth, Jaebum is already drifting off to sleep again. He’s just wondering why the sound of footsteps seems to be rapidly approaching him when something solid hits him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He opens his eyes, gasping for air, to see Jinyoung, looking very sweaty and pale, standing above him with his foot pulled back to kick him again. Jaebum, having the advantage of being stronger and also not painfully hungover, manages to catch Jinyoung’s foot and twist it, bringing him to the ground with a thud. Jinyoung rolls onto his back, groaning, and stares up at the ceiling with a miserable expression.

“Good morning to you too, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum says, once he’s recovered his breath.

“I hate you so much.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly noon. Why did you make me go to that stupid party?” Jinyoung wails, rubbing at his eyes like he’s trying to remove them from his head. “I made such a fool of myself.”

“Well, no one is debating that.” A arm flails out to smack Jaebum and misses.

“Why did you let me drink so much? Why did you _leave me there?_ Does the roommate code mean nothing to you?”

“You seemed pretty content to stay with Mark,” Jaebum says sarcastically. Jinyoung seems to become another shade paler, if that’s even possible.

“Mark-hyung,” Jinyoung chokes. He hauls himself abruptly to his feet, making a mad dash to the bathroom. The sounds of vomiting fill the apartment once more. Jaebum feels sick just listening to it.

“Hey, can you be quieter? That’s disgusting,” Jaebum hollers, dragging his pillow over his face. He hears the faucet running and the sound of Jinyoung’s footsteps returning to the room, slower this time.

“You’re disgusting,” Jinyoung mutters. He pulls out his futon and collapses onto it. “Your phone is blinking, by the way.”

Jaebum removes the pillow from his face and reaches for his phone, disconnecting it from the charger. He has a new message from Youngjae, asking him to get lunch. After sending a quick reply asking for time and location, he hauls himself out of bed.

“Is it your future roommate texting you? Is he asking why you’re a soul-sucking monster?” Jinyoung says from beneath his arm, which is slung across his face. Jaebum kicks at his feet as he passes on his way to the bathroom, and gets a half-assed kick (which he dodges) and a pitiful whine in response.

Jaebum purposely leaves the bathroom door cracked open as he showers, should Jinyoung need to access the toilet again (he does, twice). By the time he finishes getting dressed, Youngjae has texted him back with the location, their favorite local noodle shop. Jaebum grabs his coat and heads out, ignoring the finger Jinyoung salutes him with as he leaves.

By the time Jaebum reaches his destination, his stomach is growling and his head is pounding--not surprising considering he  doesn’t remember drinking water even once all night. Someone kept giving him beer, and his mother taught him to always accept what he’s given when he’s a guest in someone’s home. At least, that’s how he rationalizes drinking six--no, seven--beers and nothing else. He enters the shop to see Youngjae, already seated at a table with two other boys, waving him down from across the room.

“Hyung!” Youngjae nearly shouts, despite the closing distance between them. “I ordered for you! I hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” Jaebum says, pulling out the chair across from Youngjae and taking a seat. The two strangers openly stare at him, looking… shell-shocked? Is that the right word? An intensely awkward moment passes before Jaebum clears his throat and looks pointedly back and forth between Youngjae and the two boys, whom Jaebum suddenly recognizes as the Mario Kart players from the previous night.

“Oh, sorry! These are my friends from last night,” Youngjae laughs, finally taking the hint. He motions first to the larger and then the smaller. “Kim Yugyeom, and Bambam. They’re high school seniors, old friends of Mark-hyung and Jackson-hyung.”

Jaebum stiffens at the second name, having completely forgotten the significance of it in his haste to get out of Jinyoung’s clutches. When he first woke up early that morning, Jackson was gone, with no trace left behind to indicate that he hadn’t actually dreamed the whole thing. Was it all a dream? Everything after Jinyoung passing out was such a blur...

“Im Jaebum,” he introduces himself, inclining his head politely. The two kids return the nod, eyes still wide with something like awe. Jaebum isn’t all that thrilled to be sharing his lunch with them, when he thought it would just be him and Youngjae. Now that his memory is slowly returning, he has a desperate need to discuss everything that happened with someone who stayed sober through all of it, and he doesn’t want to do it in front of a pair of questionable high schoolers. He isn’t a fan of younger people in general; most people under the age of twenty he finds vapid and insufferable. Youngjae is the exception, but Youngjae is remarkably mature for his age. Most of the time.

“Oh, we know who you are,” the skinnier one, Bambam, says, voice accented in a way that Jaebum can’t place and tone heavy with implication. He watches as Youngjae shoots the kid a warning look, causing Bambam to elaborate awkwardly. “Youngjae-hyung... talked about you a lot… ?”

“Really?” Jaebum asks dryly, knowing he’s probably doing what Jinyoung calls “being an absolute dick to total strangers” and not caring at all. “In the last sixteen hours, he’s talked about me that much? What have I done to deserve such an honor, Youngjae-ah?”

Youngjae squirms under the scrutiny. “He didn’t mean it like that, hyung. You and Jinyoung-hyung are my best friends here, so of course I talk about you.”

Jaebum warms at the compliment, too easily placated when it comes to Youngjae and his straightforward affection. If only everyone was as transparent, then he wouldn’t have to spend so much time and effort on the chore also known as “having a social life.”

“Speaking of Jinyoung-ah, I should probably order him some soup or something,” Jaebum says, drumming his fingers on the table. He nods in response to Youngjae’s grim face. “He’s having a rough morning. Rough week, really.”

“I bet it’s a little better after last night, though,” the bigger one, Yugyeom, says with a leer. Youngjae sighs dramatically and puts his face in his hands, assuming the air of a harried single parent. Yugyeom’s grin disappears as Bambam kicks him under the table. “Ow! What?”

Jaebum turns the weight of his unamused stare upon Yugyeom. “Do you know something about Jinyoung I don’t?” he asks coolly, already irritated by these dongsaengs. He puts his chin in one fist, miming interest. “Please, do tell.”

Yugyeom flushes a deep pink and bows his head, stuttering his apology. Jaebum looks back to Youngjae, who emerges from his impromptu hiding place, looking equal parts embarrassed and annoyed.

“Youngjae-ah, what’s all this--” he waves vaguely at the two boys-- “about?”

“We were sort of speculating about what happened with Jinyoung-hyung last night,” Youngjae says sheepishly. He shoots a glare at the boys, who seem to shrivel slightly. “Don’t mind them, they’re perverts and easily entertained.”

“Nothing happened last night,” Jaebum begins, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their food. After thanking the waitress and waiting for her to leave, he leans across the table and lowers his voice. “Nothing happened. He got drunk, and he slept it off in a stranger’s bed. That’s all.”

“Why did he drink so much, though?” Youngjae asks, eyes focused on his noodles to hide the fact that he’s clearly fishing for information. “He’s never really been the type to binge drink.”

“Like I said, he’s had a rough week,” Jaebum says defensively, digging into his own bowl. Bambam and Yugyeom exchange a look, and Youngjae raises his eyebrows doubtfully. Jaebum shrugs, deliberately mumbling his next words. “And maybe he was a little flustered around Mark…”

“I knew it!” Bambam shrieks, reaching across the table to bump Yugyeom’s waiting fist with his own. The boys practically wriggle with glee. The corners of Youngjae’s mouth turn up shyly as he tries to contain his pleased expression. Bambam pumps a fist in the air in victory. “I _so_ called that. Did I not call that? Did I not?”

“You’d have to be blind not to,” Yugyeom agrees begrudgingly, not willing to concede the victory so easily. “They were practically drooling over each other from the get-go.”

“Really? Mark was?” Jaebum asks incredulously, wracking his brain for any indication that Mark was anything other than an overly kind party host.

“Oh yeah,” Yugyeom assures, shoveling food into his face like it’s going to be taken away if he doesn’t hurry. Jaebum tries not to grimace at the oil dripping down his chin. Teenage boys are the _worst._ “Trust me. I’ve known Mark-hyung for years, and I have never seen him act like that with someone he just met. It took him a solid year to warm up to me. Me!”

“Inconceivable,” Jaebum says under his breath. Youngjae nudges him under the table and gives him a displeased look. Jaebum finds the whole thing a little ridiculous. The way Jinyoung acted the previous night was new to him too, and he doesn’t like feeling like he doesn’t know his best friend of three years as well as he’d thought. He’s not jealous, though. That’s not what this is about.

“It’s nice to see him expressing interest in someone, though, hyung,” Youngjae says gently, his face softening in something too close to pity for Jaebum’s taste. Jaebum stuffs his mouth with noodles to avoid replying. “It’s been a while.”

It has been a while. Nearly two and a half years, actually, since Jaebum and Jinyoung’s poorly executed attempt at a relationship. They were so young and impulsive, and so excited to discover that they both preferred boys over girls that they thought it was meant to be. But no amount of cute couple items and awkward but enthusiastic sex could mask the fact that their relationship was an explosion waiting to happen. Between Jinyoung’s stubborn streak and Jaebum’s temper, they lasted four months, spent the winter break painfully apart, and returned the first semester of their sophomore year as friends and nothing more. Unfortunately, because love is blind to the possibility that sometimes people break up, they had already signed the lease on an apartment together. The first couple of weeks were downright painful, but they got through it, and they’ve been best friends ever since.

Youngjae sometimes tells Jaebum about how Jinyoung spent that winter break: permanently attached to his couch, binging on cookies and melodramas, and sobbing into anything absorbent within reach. He worried his mother enough that she practically begged Youngjae to come over every day just to get him out of the house. Jaebum doesn’t like thinking about Jinyoung like that. He also doesn’t like the nagging voice in his head that seems to sing-song _your fault, your fault_ whenever Youngjae brings it up.

“For Mark-hyung, too,” Yugyeom chimes in, speaking with his mouth full again, seemingly blind the sudden tension between Jaebum and Youngjae. “It’s been ages since he dated anyone seriously. Not since high school, probably, and those were all girls.”

“You mean he doesn’t bring drunk guys back to his bed regularly? That’s reassuring, at least,” Jaebum says, fake-cheerfully. Yugyeom just looks confused, like he hasn’t fully grasped the concept of sarcasm yet. Jaebum tries, he really, really tries, not to roll his eyes. “Apart from Jackson, that is.”

“You don’t have to worry about Jackson-hyung,” Bambam assures. “He and Mark tried dating once, but it didn’t last long. They’re just too different. They drove each other nuts.”

At the mention of Jackson’s name, Jaebum feels his headache worsen. He sorts through his memories of their many and elaborate conversations from the previous evening and suddenly has an intense desire to stab his chopsticks into his leg. It’s funny how in all that talking Jackson did, he failed to mention even once that he and Mark--the man with whom Jackson _regularly shares a bed,_ Jaebum reminds himself with a vicious stab at his noodles and not his thigh because that would be too difficult to explain--had once been “an item.” He didn’t tell Jackson about his and Jinyoung’s sordid past, but that was a different situation entirely. He didn’t still sleep with Jinyoung. Well, most nights, anyways. Sometimes it gets really cold.

“I kind of wish he would find someone already,” Bambam says wistfully, drawing Jaebum out of his seething. “He’s always messaging me about how horny and lonely he is. His messages alone eat up like half of my data plan. Plus it’s been ages since he dated anyone, and he keeps talking about his fencing buddies hitting on him. I’m afraid he might give in just to get his rocks off. Those guys are total assholes, though. They’ll chew him up and spit him out.”

“What did you think of Jackson, hyung?” Youngjae prods, transparently invested. “You two were still talking when I left. Did you hit it off?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” Jaebum says, sensing a trap. Time to throw them off his scent. “He’s loud, and overenthusiastic about literally everything. He waxed poetic about fencing for nearly an hour. Also he’s really, really clingy. I think that guy would suction himself to anything with a pulse, honestly. And he’s kind of full of himself. Like, who actually goes by a nickname like--”

Jaebum’s phone chirps from its spot on the table, interrupting his rant. Jaebum flicks his eyes down to the screen, almost looking away again before noticing what it says.

_J-Flawless: one new message_

Jaebum feels his heart skip a beat. He shoots his hand out to cover the screen, before--

“Who is J-Flawless, and why is their name followed by so many heart emoji?” Youngjae asks, looking equal parts confused and alarmed (as he should be--Jaebum has never used emoji in his life). Jaebum grabs his phone, shielding the screen from view, and hurriedly types in his passcode. He swipes through to the new message, and nearly drops the phone when it loads. It’s a picture of him, fast asleep in his apartment, with the caption “chic and sexy even while sleeping! call me!!”

“Wait a minute…” Youngjae says, suddenly sounding pensive. Jaebum looks up to see Bambam and Yugyeom exchanging shit-eating grins, as Youngjae looks off into the middle distance, forehead knotting in concentration. “Isn’t that what Jacks--”

“No,” Jaebum interrupts too loudly. It’s just that he can barely hear anything over the sound of his pulse in his ears. He pretends not to see Bambam and Yugyeom fist-bumping again under the table. “It’s somebody else. Jinyoung must have gotten into my phone and changed some of the contacts as a joke. You know how he is.”

Youngjae isn’t buying it. He looks at Jaebum through squinted eyes. “He’s never done something like that before.”

“Speaking of Jinyoung, I should really get going,” Jaebum says, standing abruptly and pulling out his wallet. He tosses a few bills on the table and tugs on his coat. “He’s probably miserable, I should go take care of him. Nice seeing you, Youngjae-ah. Study hard.”

Jaebum exits the shop, stumbling around a couple of tables just to get away from Youngjae’s confused yelling after him. As soon as he’s out of sight of the restaurant, Jaebum pulls out his phone with shaky hands--wait, why are his hands shaking? He pulls up the message again and reads it only a few dozen times. Just as he’s about the close the message and pretend he never saw it, his finger twitches of its own volition and hits the call button by accident. He panics, nearly dropping the phone, and tries to end the call. Before he can get his fingers to cooperate, however, someone picks up.

“Hey Jaebum!” Jackson’s overly-cheerful voice echoes over the line. Jaebum is having difficulty breathing, much less forming words. “... Jaebum? You there? I can’t hear you.”

“How did your number get in my phone?” Jaebum blurts out. Smooth. Very smooth.

“Don’t you remember? We exchanged numbers last night, after I blew you.”

Jaebum hears a strangled, high-pitched sound, and realizes it’s coming from his own mouth.

“Oh shit, calm down,” Jackson splutters, sounding awkward for once. “We didn’t… do anything last night, that was a joke. Please don’t have a stroke. I put it in your phone before I left this morning.”

Jaebum somehow manages to remember to breathe. “But… how did you know the passcode?”

“Your passcode is 1994. Give me some credit,” Jackson says, laughing. “Also? Maybe change your passcode. It’s so obvious. Hey, are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

Jaebum’s faculties of speech fail him.

“Cool. Meet me outside my building at six, okay? I have something I want to show you.”

“I don’t-- I can’t--”

“Hey, I gotta go. Six o’clock tomorrow! Don’t forget! Bye!”

The phone beeps, signaling the end of the call. Jaebum stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his phone and wondering what he did in his past life to deserve the human tension headache also known as Jackson Wang.

When he finally returns to the apartment (bringing a peace offering of convenience store kimbap, because he’s not exactly made of money and there’s no way in hell he’s going back to that restaurant to face Youngjae and those high schoolers again, thank you very much), Jaebum finds Jinyoung at the desk again, textbook open and notes strewn about in a way that only makes sense to Jinyoung.

“How are you studying already?” Jaebum groans, placing the kimbap on the desk before collapsing on the couch. Jinyoung tears open the packaging like a ravenous animal, stuffing his mouth with two pieces before answering.

“Aspirin, coffee, and fear for my GPA,” he says, spraying rice as he talks. “Plus I have a bucket here, in case I puke.”

“Don’t puke up the food I bought you,” Jaebum says absentmindedly as he pulls out his phone again. Jackson’s message is still on the screen. _“chic and sexy even while sleeping! call me!!”_ He stares at it so long the words burn into his retinas.

“Hey, why is there a cold cup of chamomile tea on the counter?” Jinyoung asks, not bothering to look up from his notes. Jaebum turns to look--yes, that’s the same tea Jackson made him last night. Busted. Jinyoung _cannot_ find out that Jackson spent the night. He would torment Jaebum for months, if not years, if he knew. Not unlike an elephant, Jinyoung _never forgets._

“I must’ve made it when I got home last night and forgot to drink it.” Jaebum tries to sound casual, but his voice comes out high pitched and wavery. He clears his throat.

“You hate chamomile, though. You once called it ‘moldy detritus masquerading as a soothing herbal remedy.’ I remember because it was so pretentious.”

“I dunno,” Jaebum says lamely, pretending to be fascinated by something on his phone. He’s a terrible liar, and Jinyoung is far too observant for anyone’s good. If Jinyoung bothers to look over at him, his cover is blown. “I was really drunk last night.”

“Whatever, just clean the cup,” Jinyoung says, turning a page in his textbook. Jaebum: 1, the universe: several million. But still, progress.

 

//

 

After the sun sets and after several hours of passive aggressive hinting from Jinyoung that turns less passive and more straight-up aggressive, Jaebum heads out on a coffee run. There’s only one place open at nine o’clock on a Saturday night: Jinyoung’s not-so-guilty pleasure, Starbucks.

The place is nearly empty; a handful of dedicated students are bent over textbooks and piles of notes, but otherwise, it’s a ghost town. Just like Jaebum likes it. He approaches the counter and orders Jinyoung’s usual, having done it so many times that it’s beyond the point of embarrassment. When the barista raises her eyebrows at the elaborate order, he just gives her his best “try me, I dare you” expression, and she scurries off without a word. Jaebum steps back from the counter and pulls out his phone. He’s just flipping through his SNS and minding his own business (as people should in public places, unlike the barista, who constantly sneaks shy glances at him as she prepares his order) when a voice calls out to him.

“Hey!”

Jaebum looks up. Approaching him with a cautious smile is none other than Mark Tuan, Actual Adonis.

“Jaebum, right?” asks Mark, smile broadening into a grin. Jaebum regrets letting Jinyoung call dibs on this boy because damn, if he isn’t pretty. “It’s Mark. From the party last night?”

“I know,” Jaebum says dumbly. Mark looks at him expectantly, perhaps hoping he would elaborate, but Jaebum just stares at him, unsure of what to say. What does one say to a handsome semi-stranger who slept with his ex-boyfriend? They should really write an instruction manual for these things.

“Quad shot venti white chocolate mocha with extra whip,” the barista announces, sliding Jaebum’s order across the counter with a knowing smile on her face. Jaebum glares at her until her smile disappears and grabs the drink, stuffing it into a cardboard cuff.

“Wow, pulling an all-nighter?” Mark asks, looking surprised and a little amused.

“Jinyoung is. He has a big test on Monday. I’m just the delivery boy.”

“What a good roommate you are,” Mark observes, his trademark smile slipping for a moment to reveal something a little more bitter. It’s gone before Jaebum can confirm it, and the smile is back in place, albeit slightly less genuine. But maybe Jaebum is seeing things. “What’s the test on?”

“Biology.”

“I thought he was a psychology major?”

“He is. He never tested out of the science requirement because he sucked at it in high school, and by the time he realized that this was the last semester he could fit it in his schedule, only biology was left,” Jaebum explains, hearing himself as though from a distance. Since when is he so chatty with strangers? Mark’s face encourages conversation, somehow. Damn him.

“I’m sure the party didn’t help his study schedule,” Mark says sheepishly.

“He’s only sworn off alcohol until he graduates,” Jaebum attempts a joke. Mark looks alarmed. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” Mark says, rubbing at the back of his neck. This conversation is almost painfully awkward, and they’re both feeling it acutely. Jaebum wishes for an escape route--a phone call, an earthquake, a chasm in the earth to swallow him whole, he’s not picky. “I hate thinking I’m the reason he might not pass biology.”

“I don’t think he blames you,” Jaebum assures, silently adding _he blames me, as usual._

“He did blame me, though. Several times. It was pretty cute, actually.” Mark looks down at his feet with a small, fond smile that could probably cure cancer. “Hold on a minute.” He calls the barista over and asks her for a marker. She gives it to him immediately, her eyes lingering on his face, Jaebum already forgotten. Mark ignores her and turns to Jaebum, taking the cup of coffee from his hand. He scribbles something on the side. “Tell him I’m free tomorrow after five if he wants help studying.”

“Have you taken that class before or something?” Jaebum asks, confused. Mark tosses the marker back to the barista. She drops it.

“I’m a veterinary student, remember? I’ve taken more biology than any sane person should,” Mark says, passing the cup of coffee back. “All right, you hurry back now before this gets cold.”

Jaebum nods an awkward goodbye and steps outside, more shaken by the interaction than he would like to admit. His feet carry him home on autopilot as his head spins in circles. Something about Mark is just... weird. He’s too nice, he’s too pretty, he’s too obviously interested in Jinyoung. Not that Jinyoung isn’t worth being interested in, but historically, no one else has been. It almost feels like he’s on a hidden camera show and someone is going to jump out and say the whole party (and everything that followed it) was an elaborate prank.

When he gets back to the apartment, he sets the cup on the desk next to Jinyoung without a word, maybe deliberately turning it so Mark’s number isn’t visible. Jinyoung eagerly pops off the lid and slurps at the now slightly melted whipped cream, eyes rolling back in his head with a moan of delight that ought to be rated 19+. Between the whipped cream on Jinyoung’s lip and the obscene sounds he’s making, Jaebum is having a hard time forgetting about the encounter with Mark. He wonders how much Mark would like to have this view, if he’d kiss the whipped cream off of Jinyoung’s mouth, if he’d find more ways to make him make those sounds.

“Why is your face like that?” Jinyoung asks, snapping Jaebum out of his perverted daydream. Jinyoung wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and licks the whipped cream off of it, making a judgmental face for the books. “You look like you just ate moldy cheese.”

“Let me know when you’re done making out with your latte and maybe I’ll tell you,” Jaebum says, heading to the closet to change into his pajamas. “Also, you’re welcome, jerk.”

“Whatever, you love me,” Jinyoung says, waving Jaebum away and returning to his books. “Oh, and it’s a mocha, and you know it, you colossal ass.”

“We can’t all be as high-maintenance as you, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum scoffs as he passes on his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He’s so unappreciated, he thinks to himself. No one else’s roommate treats them like live-in help. No one else has to deal with Park Jinyoung on a daily basis. He’s just zoning out, mouth full of toothpaste, when he hears a curious noise from Jinyoung.

“Hyung?”

“Wuh?”

“What’s with these numbers on the cup?”

Damnit.

“It looks like a phone number. Oh my god, did the barista hit on you again? After you ordered _this?_ Wow, she must be desperate.”

Jaebum rinses his mouth out slowly, letting Jinyoung ramble on for a few minutes. When he emerges, Jinyoung is leaning over his notes again, continuing his monologue, completely oblivious to the bomb Jaebum is about to drop on his life.

“...that one with the nose piercing? I told you not to compliment her on it. I mean, come on. You know how quickly women jump to conclusions, especially with looks like yours.”

“It wasn’t a girl.”

“Oooh, a guy?” Jinyoung asks, raising his eyebrows but still not turning away from his work. “That’s a first for you. Usually you give off that whole ‘rage control issues’ vibe around other guys. Little do they know that’s just your face--”

“It was Mark,” Jaebum says, rolling out his futon so he doesn’t have to see Jinyoung’s expression. It’s quiet for a moment, then Jaebum hears the sound of the office chair swiveling around.

“Mark-hyung gave you his phone number?” Jinyoung sounds nauseous. Jaebum hopes he didn’t put that bucket away yet.

“No, Mark gave _you_ his phone number,” Jaebum says, finally turning around as he plops onto his bed. Jinyoung sags visibly with relief, but it doesn’t last long. He looks back and forth between Jaebum and the cup in his hand, teeth worrying his lower lip. “He said to tell you that he’d help you study tomorrow if you want.”

“Why?”

“Because he feels bad since you apparently blamed your bender on him. Also he’s some kind of biology genius, I guess.” Jaebum crawls under his blanket, too tired to hide the bitterness in his voice. Luckily Jinyoung is too busy fondly tracing the numbers on his cup with his finger to notice.

“Should I message him?”

“If you want to.”

“Well fucking _duh,_ I want to. But should I?”

“I don’t know. Look, he said he’s available after five. So message him or don’t message him, I don’t give a fuck. Just stop talking.” Jaebum rolls resolutely toward the wall, ignoring Jinyoung’s unimpressed huff.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

Jaebum says nothing, waiting to hear the resumed sounds of textbook pages turning before he relaxes, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He stays awake far too long, listening to the sounds of Jinyoung’s breathing and the scratch of his pen on the paper and wondering when he started caring again about his roommate’s love life.

 

//

 

By five o’clock the next day, Jaebum is ready to tear his hair out. Jinyoung finally bit the bullet and messaged Mark, which turned into an hour-long tension fest of Jinyoung retyping his messages multiple times to get the right balance of casual and interested, followed by an in-depth analysis of Mark’s far less verbose replies. Mark will be arriving any minute, after he gets off of work, where he teaches martial arts to kids. Swoon.

Jinyoung is wearing his nicest sweatpants, to give the impression of “stressed but sexy student.” His notes are organized into neat piles on the desk, the cleanest it’s been in its entire time in their apartment. Jinyoung is seated in a folding chair (the office chair is reserved for Mark, of course), tweaking the corners of his textbook until it matches up evenly with the edge of the desk. His leg jiggles up and down in a senseless beat. He hasn’t spoken in an hour.

A quiet knock on the door sends Jinyoung flying out of his chair with such force that he trips over his own feet and ends up faceplanted on the floor. He looks up at Jaebum, who mouths an exaggerated “oh my god” at him, before picking himself up off the ground with a vicious throat-cutting motion and a glare that promises pain should Jaebum say anything to Mark. Jaebum shrugs and puts in his headphones, deliberately not turning on any music. This is going to be good.

Mark enters the apartment looking freshly showered and even hotter for it, damn him. He smiles and nods at Jaebum, who returns the nod and pretends to go back to playing with his phone. Jinyoung gestures around the place and apologizes for the lack of space, rubbing at the back of his neck with an expression that says “I’m sorry for being poor.” Jaebum almost feels sorry for him, but Mark quickly cuts off Jinyoung’s speech with assurances of _it’s fine, it’s nice, don’t apologize._ Jinyoung directs him to the desk with a shy smile, and they settle in, actually starting to study, much to Jaebum’s surprise.

After far too many minutes of surreptitious observation, Jaebum decides that almost anything is better than watching this low-budget melodrama play out for the next several hours. After the sixth time Jinyoung leans in too close with that “everything you say is fascinating” look in his eyes, only to drop his gaze to Mark’s mouth and subconsciously lick his lips, Jaebum can’t take it anymore.

“Oh my god, just kiss him already,” Jaebum mutters at his phone.

“What?” Jinyoung squeaks, wide-eyed. Mark looks sheepish.

“Nothing, never mind,” Jaebum grumbles, hauling himself off the couch. He goes to the door and grabs his coat. “I’m heading out.”

“Coffee run? I can give you some cash,” Jinyoung volunteers, grabbing his backpack and rifling around for his wallet.

“No, I have plans to meet up with someone.”

“Who, Youngjae? He normally video chats with his parents on Sundays--”

“No, someone else,” Jaebum interrupts sourly, grabbing his wallet and keys and ignoring the confused look on Jinyoung’s face.

“But… you don’t know anyone else.”

“I know people!” Jaebum insists, perhaps a bit too forcefully, if Mark’s shocked look is any indication. “Whatever. Mind your own business, Jinyoung.”

“Okay…” Jinyoung replies slowly, looking suspicious. “How late will you be out?”

“Late.” Jaebum is already out the door when he hears Jinyoung’s sing-song reply of “make good choices!” He purposely slams the door behind him.

In his agitation, he ends up power-walking to Jackson’s apartment building and arriving fifteen minutes early. He sits on a bench outside the building, turns the volume on his headphones up until it hurts, and tries not to ruminate on the fact that Jinyoung looks at Mark like he used to look at Jaebum.

A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his reverie. He grabs the stranger by the wrist and yanks his headphones out in one motion, cocking his hand back in a fist.

“Woah, calm down,” Jackson says softly, as though to a frightened animal. His eyes are wary and his non-restrained hand is raised in a show of peace. “It’s just me. You didn’t hear me say hello.”

“Sorry,” Jaebum mumbles, releasing Jackson’s wrist. He takes a minute to wind up his headphones and tuck them in his pocket, trying to ignore the way Jackson rubs tenderly at his wrist.

“It’s okay,” Jackson says, watching Jaebum with an expression that makes him feel entirely too transparent. “You’re early. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jaebum says. Jackson looks doubtful. Jaebum attempts a smile, knowing it probably looks as pitiful as he feels. “What did you want to show me?”

“Ah!” Jackson exclaims, brightening immediately. He waggles his eyebrows, grinning like an idiot. “Follow me.”

Jackson leads the way inside his apartment building and up the stairs. Just as Jaebum is about to make a comment about there being nothing he hasn’t already seen in Jackson’s apartment, Jackson passes the second floor, and they keep climbing… and climbing. Just when Jaebum is beginning to lose track of how many floors they’ve passed, they reach the top of the last flight of stairs, and Jackson stops in front of a heavy metal door.

“You okay?” Jackson asks, looking amused at Jaebum’s sweaty figure.

“Yeah,” Jaebum wheezes, but only a little. “How many floors was that?”

“Ten.”

“Doesn’t your building have an elevator?”

“Yeah, but I thought this would be more fun. Build up the suspense.” Jackson grabs him suddenly by the hand and looks at him expectantly. “Close your eyes.”

Jaebum just looks at him, inherent need to rebel warring with his growing desire to please Jackson. It’s not because he wants to make Jackson happy. It’s just that his disappointed face is so painful to look at.

“Come on!” Jackson whines, tugging on his hand. “If you don’t, it’ll ruin the surprise. Don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

Jackson looks dejected, and something inside Jaebum’s chest clenches painfully with the knowledge that he caused that. He sighs dramatically and puts his free hand over his eyes, earning him a squeal of delight from Jackson. The pain is his chest disappears, replaced by something fluttery and light, like he swallowed a butterfly. He hears the door creak open, and Jackson leads him out into the bitter cold.

“Okay, open them.”

Jaebum lowers his hand and is greeted by the sight of the city of Seoul laid out before him. The skyline is breathtaking from this height, all lit up by city lights and the most beautiful sunset Jaebum has ever seen. Jackson elbows him. They’re still holding hands.

“So?” Jackson’s voice is full of anticipation.

“Okay, this is pretty great,” Jaebum admits, not even trying to keep the smile off of his face. Jackson cheers, raising their joined hands in victory.

“Aha! I knew you weren’t heartless!”

“Is that why you brought me up here?” Jaebum asks, honestly a little stung by the word, hearing it coming from Jackson. Is that really how he’s perceived upon first impression? He was trying so hard to be nice.

“Well, you said something about not caring about the sunset, and I figured that was because you’ve never seen a really good one.” Jackson sweeps his free arm out at the skyline. “This is the best view in the city! Probably.”

“Do you come up here often?” Jaebum asks, feeling the warmth of Jackson’s rough hand in his own and trying not to squeeze it. Should he let go yet? Would Jackson be offended? He doesn’t want to let go, but he also doesn’t want Jackson to get the idea that he holds hands with just anyone. For the dozenth time in the past two days, he wonders why he cares so much what Jackson thinks.

“Whenever I can,” Jackson sighs, looking out over the city, oblivious to Jaebum’s internal struggle. “It’s getting harder to make time, between school and fencing, but I try to get up here as often as possible. It’s a good thinking spot, you know? Puts everything in perspective. Like, how can I worry about my own dumb problems, when there’s millions of people right there with their own shit to deal with, and they’re still doing just fine? It keeps me humble.”

Jaebum hums noncommittally. Looking out at the thousands of cars and buses puttering around, and the insect-like hordes of people that swarm the streets, he does feel like his problems are miniscule, in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t make him feel humbled, though. Just vaguely guilty, for being so self-centered.

“What are you thinking about?” Jackson asks quietly, tugging on Jaebum’s hand.

 _How I haven’t held someone’s hand for this long since Jinyoung,_ Jaebum wants to say. _How the next hand Jinyoung holds will be Mark’s. How messed up it is that I care so much about it._

“Nothing much,” Jaebum says instead, shrugging away the feelings of dissatisfaction that keep clouding his head. He extracts his hand from Jackson’s grasp and tucks it into his pocket. It feels so cold and empty that he almost puts it back. Almost. “This is nice, but it’s really fucking cold. Can we go?”

“Yeah, we can go,” Jackson sighs, looking like he expected something better. Jaebum feels that pain again, right under his sternum, that throbs and says it’s his fault Jackson looks so deflated. He rubs at his chest, wishing the feeling would go away. Jackson turns back to the door and stops short.

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? What’s uh-oh?” Jaebum asks as Jackson approaches the door and gives the handle a yank. It doesn’t budge. He turns back to face Jaebum, looking embarrassed.

“I forgot to prop the door open.”

“You forgot… what?”

“I was so excited to show you the view that I forgot to put the brick in the door to keep it from locking on us.” Jackson leans down and picks up an ancient red brick, clearly a former piece of the building. “See?”

“So what, we’re stuck up here?” Jaebum asks, feeling slightly panicky. It’s really cold, and the sun is almost gone, and Jaebum doesn’t like being trapped anywhere, much less on a rooftop in October. Jackson tosses the brick to the ground and pulls out his phone.

“Until Mark gets back from work, at least. He’s had to come rescue me before. Don’t worry, he should be home any minute.”

“No, he won’t,” Jaebum says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jackson looks up from his phone, confused. “He’s at my apartment. With Jinyoung.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, sounding far more enlightened than the situation calls for. He stares at Jaebum with a complicated expression, causing Jaebum to wonder once again exactly what he’s discovering with his piercing looks. Either way, Jaebum thinks he would feel less exposed stark-ass naked than under Jackson’s scrutiny. Jackson nods subtly to himself, as though coming to some unforeseen conclusion, and drops the expression like it never even happened. He turns to a small storage locker just to the right of the door. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

Jackson reaches up, feeling along the top of the locker for a moment until he uncovers a key. The key unlocks the padlock on the locker, revealing some rusty deck chairs and a few abandoned clay pots. Jackson reaches past all the junk and emerges with a small canvas duffle bag. He smiles weakly at Jaebum as he sets it on the ground between them and unzips it, revealing a stash of neatly packed supplies. Jaebum watches as Jackson pulls out hand warmers, bottled water, protein bars, a backup phone battery, a flashlight, and even a road flare.

“Mark put this together after I got stuck up here last February and my phone died,” Jackson admits with reddened cheeks. Whether the color is from the cold or embarrassment, Jaebum can’t tell. Either way, it’s a good look on him. “I almost got frostbite. It was crazy.”

“How many times have you gotten stuck up here?” Jaebum marvels, crouching next to him and pulling out a stack of comic books. Mark really thought of everything.

Jackson shrugs good-naturedly. “A lot. So what do you say? Should we give them an hour or two?”

“Fine,” Jaebum huffs, feeling his stomach growl at the sight of the protein bars and remembering that he hasn’t had dinner yet. “But the second it gets too cold, I’m calling them. I’m not losing my toes so they can get to first base unimpeded.”

“Deal,” Jackson says with a grin. He stands up and turns back to the storage locker, pulling out a pair of lounge chairs that have seen better days. He sets the chairs up facing what’s left of the sunset and turns back to Jaebum, who’s busy tearing into a protein bar. Who knew protein powder and artificial flavoring could be so satisfying?

“I don’t suppose there’s a blanket in here somewhere,” Jaebum deadpans, spraying crumbs everywhere as he rifles through the bag.

“That I can do,” Jackson says, holding a finger aloft. He returns to the storage locker and digs through the bottom of it until he emerges with a quilt that has definitely seen better days. He smacks it and a cloud of dust puffs out. Jaebum tries not to visibly cringe. His nose itches already. “There’s only one, though.”

“You can have it,” Jaebum volunteers, finishing off his protein bar and grabbing another immediately. “I was mostly joking anyways.”

“Are you kidding? No way, dude,” Jackson says emphatically, shoving the blanket at Jaebum, who topples back onto his ass with the force of it. “It’s my fault we’re up here. You should have it. You’re the guest.”

Jaebum takes a moment to look pointedly at the rusty deck chairs, the dirty storage locker, and the dusty blanket in his lap, before raising his eyebrows dubiously at Jackson.

“I’m the guest?” he repeats dryly. “You know, that really wasn’t coming across. Is this how you treat all your guests?”

“Only the handsome ones,” Jackson says with a smirk. He holds out a hand, which Jaebum takes, and hauls Jaebum to his feet. Jaebum wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a cape, bravely ignoring the musty odor, and follows Jackson over to the lounge chairs. Jackson takes a seat, opening up a packet of instant hand warmers and rubbing them between his palms. Jaebum sits and begins his second protein bar, watching Jackson work. The sun is long gone, but it’s not terrible because the rising moonlight suits Jackson really well. Something about his tan skin just soaks up the light in a way that makes him look all glowy, like a fairy. Or an angel.

“What are you staring at?” Jackson asks with a curious smile quirking his lips. Jaebum feels his face grow hot.

“Nothing,” Jaebum says, taking a massive bite of protein bar. Jackson just smiles and stuffs the warmers and his hands in his pockets, kicking his feet up and tilting his head back to look at the stars.

“I am sorry, you know. This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“It’s all right,” Jaebum says, tossing aside the second wrapper and kicking back on his lounge chair. “At least nothing else can go wrong, right?”

Jackson is quiet at that. Jaebum turns and finds Jackson staring at him piercingly again, like he knows all of Jaebum’s secrets from now until the end of time. With the effect of the moonlight on his face, it’s a haunting image. Jaebum shivers and pulls the blanket closer around his shoulders, looking away again.

“So… Mark and Jinyoung, huh?” Jackson asks gently. Damn, he’s perceptive.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Must’ve been quite a surprise,” Jackson supplies, fishing for a reaction. “Sort of out of the blue, right?”

“Not really,” Jaebum says, just to be contrary. Yes, it was, and still is, a surprise to Jaebum, but like hell he’s telling anyone that. “Jinyoung’s always been a hopeless romantic. Love at first sight, and all that jazz. I used to joke that if he didn’t fall in love with a stranger on the bus at least once a week, something was wrong.”

“Is that what happened between you two?” Jackson asks, voice tentative. Jaebum doesn’t need to look over to know he’s being watched intently. “Love at first sight?”

Jaebum fumbles for words for a moment, too shocked at Jackson’s intuition to form coherent sentences. “How did you find out about that?”

“It’s plain as day, if you know what you’re looking for,” Jackson says. When Jaebum looks over at him, he’s wearing a wry smile. “Also Jinyoung told me, at the party.”

“What? When?” Jaebum asks, wracking his brains for any interactions between Jackson and Jinyoung, and finding none.

“In the kitchen, when I went to get you a beer. That’s when he told me about your songwriting, and a bunch of other stuff I’m just going to hold onto for later. Might come in handy someday.”

Jaebum rubs at his face and begins a list of ways he’s going to torment Jinyoung over the rest of the semester. Decaf mochas from now on, for one thing. Fuck that guy.

“It wasn’t like that,” Jaebum says quietly, pulling the musty blanket around his ears to hide how uncomfortable he’s feeling. He’d rather talk about taxes for forty-five minutes than talk about his relationship with Jinyoung for one. Besides, it’s none of Jackson’s business. Just because he’s kind of handsome and really friendly doesn’t mean he gets a free pass at prying in other people’s lives.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the one still holding on, though. I mean, I don’t know either of you all that well--” Lies. Jaebum is convinced he’s actually a mind reader-- “but that seems more like Jinyoung’s MO.”

“It is--well, it _was,”_ Jaebum confesses, staring at his hands under the blanket as he picks at his fingers to avoid meeting Jackson’s piercing gaze. “Then Mark showed up and now somehow the roles are reversed. I can’t say that I’m enjoying it.”

Jackson nods thoughtfully. “Mark was a lot like you a few years ago. Slow to hold on, quick to cut ties, seemingly heartless once it’s over. We barely dated, but I always wondered if he would even notice if I started seeing someone else seriously. He acted like he didn’t believe my relationships were meaningful. To be fair, they weren’t; they were mostly to get a rise out of him, but still. All I wanted was for him to take me seriously.”

Jaebum wonders if that’s how Jinyoung feels. Jinyoung hasn’t had a relationship since they broke up, but if he had, would Jaebum have treated him that way? Probably. The thought of Jinyoung being in a serious, committed relationship with another person is almost ridiculous to Jaebum. But why is that? It’s not like Jinyoung is insincere, or unlovable, or inherently bad at relationships. Now that someone is interested in him, Jaebum feels uncomfortable. Like Jinyoung shouldn’t be allowed to change beyond how Jaebum knows him now: petty, annoying, celibate. That’s the Jinyoung he likes. That’s the only Jinyoung he can imagine without something queasy and unpleasant flipping around in his gut.

Jackson is watching him again. His stare is deeply unsettling.

“Can you stop looking at me like that? I’m not really in the mood to be psychoanalyzed,” Jaebum mutters, pulling his knees up to his chest. Jackson holds his hands up in surrender before tucking them back into his pockets and sliding down further on the lounge chair.

They spend a while in silence, listening to the sounds of city traffic and the increasingly loud chattering of Jackson’s teeth. Jaebum looks over and sees his shoulders hunched up to his ears to ward off the cold.

“Aren’t you freezing?”

“A little, yeah.”

“Here, it’s your turn for the blanket, then,” Jaebum offers, tugging it off his shoulders and holding it out. The crisp air bites through his jacket almost immediately, and he shivers. Jackson waves the blanket away.

“It’s okay, you need it more than I do.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Jaebum sighs in frustration. He stands up and drapes the blanket over Jackson, ignoring his protests. Just as Jaebum is returning to his chair, shoulders hunched against the breeze, Jackson’s hand darts out and catches his own. He looks up at Jaebum with pleading eyes. The fluttery feeling is back in Jaebum’s throat.

“Share it with me?”

Jaebum rolls his eyes to hide whatever weird and probably extremely telling expression he has on his face. “Fine, but only because you look so pathetic. Also, I’m not in the mood to get frostbite today. Scoot over.”

“Nah, man, just sit here,” Jackson says, patting the space between his legs on the lounge chair. “You can lean against me, and then we can both fit under the blanket.”

“I’m taller than you. My feet will hang off the end,” Jaebum counters, not sure if it’s excitement or anxiety he feels at the thought of being trapped between Jackson’s thighs. Better not to find out. “It makes more sense for me to be in the back.”

“I’m definitely heavier than you, though,” Jackson says, giving Jaebum another lingering once-over. Jaebum suppresses another shiver. “You may be crushed under my weight.”

“Whatever, you’re not that heavy. Just scoot.”

Jackson complies, moving forward on the lounge chair enough that Jaebum can slip in behind him, straddling Jackson’s hips with his legs. Once they’re both on the chair, Jackson leans back against Jaebum’s chest, pulling the blanket over both of them. Jaebum’s hands reach out instinctively to wrap around Jackson’s waist, but he stops himself short and settles his hands on his own thighs instead. Jackson wriggles against him, pressing closer, and sighs happily, blanket tucked up under his chin.

“You’re very warm,” Jackson murmurs. “This is nice.”

“Just don’t fall asleep on me,” Jaebum warns, feeling the weight of Jackson against his chest as he tries to remember how to breathe normally. He wonders why Jackson hasn’t commented on the sound of his heartbeat, which must be near-deafening.

“I won’t,” Jackson promises. He’s lying.

Half an hour later, Jackson is fast asleep against Jaebum’s chest, breathing heavily. Jaebum is torn between marvelling at Jackson’s apparent ability to fall asleep anywhere and wondering when exactly he lost all of the feeling in his ass. He manages to wriggle his phone out of his pocket without waking Jackson and unlocks it to check the time. Nearly eight o’clock. That’s enough, he thinks, and dials Jinyoung’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pass the phone to Mark.”

“... What?”

“Pass. The phone. To Mark. I need to talk to him.”

“Umm, is this some kind of power play? Because it is not cute.” Jinyoung sounds irritated.

“Just do it, Jinyoung.”

Something in Jaebum’s tone must get the message across, because, after a dramatic sigh from Jinyoung, the phone is shuffled around, and Mark’s timid voice comes across the line.

“Hello?”

“We’re stuck on the roof.”

“Ah,” Mark says, any prior confusion disappearing immediately. “How long?”

“Two hours.”

“And Jackson… ?”

“Asleep.”

“Okay.” Mark sounds amused. “I’ll be there soon.”

Jaebum hangs up. His face is burning in embarrassment even though no one can see it. Calling Mark for help is humiliating.

Jackson sleeps peacefully for the entire twenty minutes it takes Mark to arrive. Jaebum spends most of it admiring what little of Jackson he can see. Spiky hair, long eyelashes, the cutest nose in the entire world, probably. What is it about moonlight that makes Jaebum become a total sap? He’s practically worshipping the guy and they’ve only just met. It doesn’t feel like they just met, though. Something about Jackson is incredibly familiar, like they’ve been friends for years and are just now reunited. He has the weirdest urge to pet Jackson’s hair and feed him chocolate and listen to him talk for hours. He settles for putting his hands inside Jackson’s coat pockets and holding his hands. Jackson sighs in his sleep.

Jaebum hears footsteps on the metal stairs and tries to shake Jackson awake, lest they be caught in a compromising position, but unsurprisingly, Jackson sleeps like the dead. The heavy metal door swings open, revealing not only Mark but also Jinyoung, who is using his phone as a flashlight to shine further light on Jaebum’s embarrassment.

“Oh my god,” Jinyoung giggles, and the sound of an electronic shutter clicking can be heard across the rooftop. Having reached his limit for being humiliated, Jaebum gives up being gentle and bodily shoves Jackson off of him. Jackson lands on the cold cement with an undignified squeak, causing Mark to chuckle fondly.

“Are you all right?” Jinyoung asks Jaebum, mirth and judgment making the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

“I’m fine,” Jackson replies instead, standing up and dusting off his palms. He shoots Jaebum a dirty look. “You could’ve been a little gentler, though. Rude.”

“All right, well, I’ve had enough of this for today,” Jaebum announces, glad Jinyoung shut his phone’s light off so that the darkness can hide the furious blush on his face. He turns to Mark. “Thanks for rescuing us.” Mark nods, grinning. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home. Jinyoung, you coming?”

“Right behind you, chief,” Jinyoung salutes, barely suppressing his laughter. He waves shyly to Mark as they head to the exit. “Thanks for all your help. It really made a difference.”

“No problem!” Mark waves back. “Let me know how the test goes.”

“I will! I’ll message you--”

“Jinyoung, I’m leaving,” Jaebum interrupts as he crosses the threshold into the building, which is only fractionally warmer than the outdoors. He’s already a flight of stairs ahead by the time Jinyoung starts to follow, and he can’t say he dislikes the distance. Jinyoung catches up by the time they reach the building’s front door. As they step into the cold once again, he punches Jaebum playfully in the arm. Jaebum winces and rubs at the spot, thoroughly unamused.

“So it looks like we both got lucky tonight, huh?” Jinyoung asks, tone heavy with implication. Jaebum says nothing, choosing instead to bite the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. Jinyoung nudges him with his elbow. “Hey, what’s the matter with you? Your jaw is doing that thing again.”

Jaebum snaps his jaw back into place, unaware that he had been jutting it out, as is his habit when he’s less than pleased with a situation. Jinyoung likes to mock him for it. He’s not in the mood to be mocked anymore tonight.

“Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now? Wow, very mature, hyung.”

Jaebum kicks at a pile of wet leaves as they walk. They stick to his shoes. He holds back a sigh of exasperation. Nothing is going right for him today.

“Are you mad at me?” Jinyoung’s uncertain voice instantly breaks Jaebum’s resolve.

“No.” Yes, but he’s not going to admit to it.

“Then what is it?”

_Oh, only the fact that you told a complete stranger all my secrets without my permission. No big deal._

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on, since when do you clam up around me? I know all your secrets, hyung.”

_Yes, you do, and you pimped that information out to the first guy with a nice smile._

“I said I don’t want to talk.”

“Fine,” Jinyoung huffs.

They spend the rest of the walk in silence. When they reach their apartment, Jaebum decides to go to bed early, ignoring Jinyoung’s dissatisfied cluck when he sees Jaebum rolling out his futon at nine o’clock at night. Jaebum simply puts his headphones in and curls up under his blanket, appreciating for the first time in his life the luxury of sleeping in a warm bed, indoors, and not on a rusty lawn chair on a rooftop.


	3. Home Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter was inspired by this photo http://67.media.tumblr.com/a1a13821f371b7c2d72d29323f0ade41/tumblr_oedwz1DGBr1vpi8x6o3_540.jpg
> 
> And then, right before I finished editing this chapter, this photo happened http://67.media.tumblr.com/9641f9aad9bf8b80afb4ed9edb3925e1/tumblr_oesfvokw121qb6mp1o1_1280.jpg  
> which only reinforced my personal headcanons about the situation.

Despite the fact that Jinyoung aced his biology test on Monday, he continues to see Mark daily for “tutoring.” By Wednesday, Mark is sitting with them at lunch in the cafeteria. By Friday, Jackson is too. Jaebum is torn between wishing Mark would just go away and stop being so perfect all the time and being glad that Jackson is always around to act as a buffer. Jackson is a marvellous buffer.

“Would you rather live in a tree house or a hobbit hole?” Jackson asks, apropos of nothing, as he sets down his lunch tray next to Jaebum’s. Jaebum feels himself unclench. Jinyoung had been trying to engage him in a conversation with Mark again and he was not having it.

“Tree house!” Youngjae immediately responds, smiling widely at Jackson. Youngjae thinks Jackson is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Jaebum likes implying that Jackson’s replaced Jinyoung as Youngjae’s favorite hyung. Jinyoung likes kicking Jaebum under the table.

“All year round, though?” Jaebum asks. Jackson nods. “For how long? A year? Or forever?”

Jackson thinks about that for a moment. “Um... forever.”

“I choose hobbit hole then,” Jaebum says. Youngjae ponders that seriously.

“You’re probably right,” Youngjae sighs. “I’d pick hobbit hole too, then.”

“Tree house,” Mark says simply, in between gulps of soup.

“That’s what I was going to say!” Jinyoung gasps, looking at Mark with a shocked expression. Mark smiles his beautiful smile and elbows Jinyoung playfully. Jinyoung laughs, smacking Mark’s arm. Jaebum loses his appetite.

“What about you, hyung?” Youngjae asks Jackson. Jackson purses his lips.

“It’s a tough one, because I think a tree house would be great in summer but the hobbit hole would be better for winter,” Jackson explains seriously. “Can you imagine living up in a tree in winter? With the wind blowing around and the snow? You’d never get warm. But it would be a waste to live underground in the summer, because you’d never get any sunlight.”

“So which one?” Jaebum asks. “You still haven’t picked.”

“I don’t know,” Jackson says with a laugh. He’s busy picking the shredded cheese off of Jaebum’s salad with his chopsticks.

“You asked the question and you don’t even have an answer?” Jinyoung asks, looking unimpressed. “That’s irresponsible.”

“I just wanted to see what everyone else thought,” Jackson says with a shrug, totally unperturbed.

“It’s just a game, Jinyoung. Lay off,” Jaebum says, barely containing the irritation in his voice. Jinyoung narrows his eyes at Jaebum in that way that promises retribution in the near future.

“Do another one, hyung,” Youngjae insists, leaning forward excitedly.

“Okay… Would you rather lose all the hair on your head or get twice as much hair on your body?”

“Forever?” Youngjae asks.

“No, let’s say... for a year.”

“I have to pick between going bald or getting twice as much body hair for a year?” Jinyoung asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I don’t like this game.”

“Body hair,” Mark says. Jinyoung makes a face at him, and he shrugs. “I don’t have that much, so doubling it wouldn’t be too bad. Also, I’d look terrible bald.”

“I bet you’d look cute bald,” Jinyoung says, reaching up to ruffle Mark’s hair. Mark leans into his hand like a dog being pet and hums happily. Jaebum worries his lunch may make an encore appearance.

“What do you think? Hairless or too hairy?” Jackson asks, nudging him.

“I’d rather go bald,” Jaebum says, focusing on Jackson’s encouraging expression until the nausea in his gut dissipates.

“Oooh, very punk rock,” Jackson coos, nodding in approval.

“No, it’s just that I have way too much body hair already,” Jaebum says. Jackson makes a scandalized face. Jaebum punches his arm, and he snaps out of it instantly, laughing like a hyena.

“I’d rather get twice as much body hair,” Youngjae volunteers, taking too big a bite of rice. As he laughs at himself, grains spray out across the table. “I don’t have anyone to impress. No one sees my body hair but me!”

“What about you, Jinyoung?” Jackson asks. Jinyoung makes a face.

“You first.”

“I’d rather go bald,” Jackson says, pulling his signature snapback off for a moment and rubbing his head. His hair sticks up every which way. “I wear hats so much that no one would even notice.”

Everyone turns to look expectantly at Jinyoung, who is doing a thorough examination of his ddeokbokki. Mark elbows Jinyoung repeatedly, until he whines and gives in.

“This is so hard,” Jinyoung wails, running a hand reverently through his thick black hair, which Jaebum knows for a fact is his favorite part about his appearance. Unfortunately, Jinyoung’s least favorite part of his appearance is his body hair, which, while not copious like Jaebum’s, is not exactly nonexistent. “Fine, I’d rather get twice as much body hair. Happy?”

“You’d spend so much money getting waxed at the salon, Jinyoungie,” Jaebum teases. “You’d have to get a part-time job just to support yourself.”

“Shut up,” Jinyoung mutters. Jaebum tries not to take too much glee in his miserable expression.

“Do you really hate body hair that much?” Mark asks, incredulous. Jaebum senses an opportunity to create a rift between them, and, like the asshole he is, he takes it.

“They don’t really care very much about body hair on men in America, right, Mark?” Jaebum asks. Mark looks surprised that Jaebum is even talking to him. Jinyoung shoots daggers at him with his eyes.

“Uh, no, it’s not really a big deal over there,” Mark says, shrugging. “Actually, it’s a sign of being manly. Some women really like it. Especially the happy trail.”

“‘Happy trail’?” Youngjae mimics Mark’s English, cocking his head to the side.

“You know, the line of hair under your belly button.” Mark pulls up his shirt, revealing an impressive set of abs. He rubs at his stomach, laughing. Jinyoung’s eyes are about to pop out of his head. “I don’t really have one. Jackson, show them yours.”

Jackson instantly yanks up his shirt (much higher than needed, Jaebum thinks, but hey he’s not complaining because holy fuck that’s Jackson’s naked chest right next to him and he’s feeling a little dizzy), revealing abs even more defined than Mark’s. He points at the little line of dark hairs leading from his navel to disappear beneath the waistband of his underwear. Jaebum fights the urge to reach out and touch it. It looks really soft.

“See? He’s got a good one,” Mark says, pointing. His shirt is back down, but Jinyoung is still staring at him like he just witnessed a miracle.

“That’s a good thing?” Youngjae asks, tugging up his shirt slightly to look doubtfully at the hair on his own belly.

“For Western women, it is,” Mark explains.

Jaebum is so busying replaying the sight of Jackson’s abs in his head that he doesn’t notice where Jackson’s hand is sneaking until it’s pulling up Jaebum’s shirt, exposing his pale, hairy stomach to the whole cafeteria. He jerks at the touch, frantically trying to pull his shirt back down, but Jackson is stronger and very determined.

“Look at his!” Jackson squeals, batting Jaebum’s hands away. Jaebum can feel his face heating up. Jackson reaches out a hand and gently rubs his fingers over the coarse little hairs that Jaebum always means to shave but is too lazy to actually do anything about. The touch of Jackson’s warm fingers sends a chill up his spine and Jaebum’s brain instantly short circuits. “His happy trail is so good!”

“Gross,” Jinyoung scoffs, effectively bringing Jaebum back to reality. He finally overpowers Jackson and yanks his shirt back down, wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach. His face feels like it’s on fire.

“Well, I like it,” Jackson says defensively, wrapping an arm around Jaebum’s shoulders. Jaebum leans forward until his face rests on the table and thinks that death would be less painful than this. He tries to shake Jackson’s heavy arm off of his shoulders, but Jackson just squeezes even tighter.

Jackson is a marvellous buffer, Jaebum reflects, but sometimes, that comes at a price.

 

//

 

Every Thursday afternoon, Jaebum visits Youngjae at his student job at the circulation desk in the library. Most freshman start out shelving, but the library manager said Youngjae was “too cute to banish to the stacks,” and so he ended up with the easiest student job in the entire world. Not that Jaebum is complaining. With his course load, the kid deserves every break he can get.

“Hey hyung,” Youngjae chirps as Jaebum ducks behind the counter. The manager’s soft spot for Youngjae extends to letting Jaebum hide out behind the desk, so long as Youngjae still does his job and they don’t get rowdy or anything. Jaebum spends the hour and a half break he has between classes every Thursday bringing Youngjae snacks and distracting him from studying, as any good hyung would.

Jaebum throws a bag of dried squid at him, which Youngjae catches and rips open.

“How are the customers today?” Jaebum asks, pulling the swivel chair from the next desk over to Youngjae’s side and taking a seat.

“Nonexistent,” Youngjae sighs. He puts a bookmark in his textbook and pushes it aside. It’s weird, because Youngjae always at least pretends to study when Jaebum shows up, even if he doesn’t actually get anything done. He swivels to face Jaebum, looking nervous. “Hyung, is something going on between you and Jinyoung-hyung?”

Jaebum steals a piece of squid from the bag. “What do you mean?”

“At lunch lately, you’ve been acting kind of mean. Is this whole business with Mark-hyung--” Jaebum tenses. Youngjae points at his face emphatically. “That! Right there! You keep looking like that whenever you’re around him, or whenever anyone mentions him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaebum says, chewing viciously. He knows perfectly well what Youngjae is talking about, because it’s hard to hide when you can’t stand to be in the same room with someone, much less at the same lunch table. Especially when that person is constantly attempting to cuddle with your ex-boyfriend/current roommate.

Youngjae looks exasperated. “Either way, you really shouldn’t string Jackson-hyung along like that, if you’re still… you know…”

“No, I don’t know,” Jaebum says, genuinely confused. How is he stringing Jackson along? What does Jackson have to do with any of this? “What are you getting at, Youngjae-ah?”

“Are you… do you maybe… still have feelings? For Jinyoung-hyung?”

 _“What?”_ Jaebum would like very much to punch something.

“It’s just an observation,” Youngjae says, raising his hands in surrender. “It just seems like you’re kind of… jealous?”

“I am not jealous,” Jaebum hisses, feeling his face turn hot. Youngjae cowers. “Why the hell would you think I’m jealous? Of _Mark?”_

“You just act like you hate him a lot,” Youngjae explains hurriedly. “He asked me the other day if he had offended you somehow, or if you’re always this unfriendly to Jinyoung’s boyfriends.”

“B-boyfriends?” Jaebum stutters. His head is starting to pound. Youngjae looks worried.

“Well, yeah. It’s not official or anything, but Mark-hyung wants it to be.”

“It’s been _two weeks.”_

“I said it’s not official,” Youngjae reminds him quietly, looking away and toying nervously with the wire of his spiral notebook.

“But it will be.” Jaebum feels like someone just pulled the chair out from under him. His head is spinning. Jinyoung? With a _boyfriend?_

“Yeah.” Youngjae’s face when he raises it is full of pity, and Jaebum doesn’t particularly feel like seeing it anymore.

“I gotta go.”

“Hyung, wait!”

But Jaebum is too busy storming out of the library to stop. When he hits the cold air, he remembers that he left his jacket back at the front desk. He doesn’t turn back.

 

//

 

A week later, Jaebum is standing in line at Starbucks for his Friday afternoon treat. His classes this semester end at two o’clock on Fridays, so he’s gotten in the habit of getting himself something caramel flavored and sitting quietly in a dark corner of the store for an hour or two composing songs as a way of destressing. Unfortunately, he spent most of the last week wondering what Mark and Jinyoung are doing whenever they’re out of his sight instead of studying, which has done very little for his mental health. Between the two tests he just barely managed to pass this week and the fact that Mark and Jinyoung have graduated to holding hands, he’s a little more tightly wound than usual. He no longer has to imagine what Jinyoung’s face would look like when Mark kisses him on the cheek, either, because Mark did it earlier that day at lunch in front of everyone and okay, maybe Jaebum is having some feelings about it.

Jaebum’s ears are beginning to feel numb as he waits in line but he turns the volume up a little higher on his headphones anyways, to try to drown out the obsessive thoughts cycling in his head. (Who is the big spoon when they cuddle? Mark, definitely Mark. Jinyoung likes being held. Here comes the nausea.) Someone bumps into Jaebum from behind, startling him. He turns, death glare already applied to face, and is surprised to see Jackson, big brown eyes looking up at him sheepishly.

“J-Jackson?” Jaebum stutters, definitely not at all flustered. He takes his headphones out of his ears and stares. Jackson’s wearing some really tight pants today, Jaebum notices absentmindedly. His thighs look really good in those pants.

“I didn’t know how to get your attention,” Jackson explains with a shrug. “Last time I tried to talk to you when you had your headphones in, you almost punched me in the face. You know, you really shouldn’t walk around all cut off from the world like that. You’re completely unapproachable.”

“That’s the point,” Jaebum says dumbly. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a guy go to Starbucks on a Friday afternoon without having ulterior motives?” Jackson asks, mock offended, but Jaebum can tell from the way he’s avoiding eye contact that he does, in fact, have something on his mind.

“Next customer, please.”

Jaebum turns back and approaches the counter to place his order. Just as he’s digging out his wallet, though, Jackson elbows in and orders his own drink, whipping out his credit card faster than Jaebum can blink.

“My treat,” Jackson says with a wink. Jaebum narrows his eyes at him. Something is definitely going on. Jackson nudges him to the back of the coffee shop, to the table Jaebum always sits at, and pushes him down into a seat. He leaves and returns momentarily with their drinks.

“How did you know that this is where I sit?” Jaebum asks as soon as Jackson is seated. Jackson pops the lid off of his cup of hot water and grabs the tag of the tea bag floating in it, dunking it up and down absentmindedly.

“Oh, I know a lot about you, Im Jaebum,” Jackson says in a tone that’s almost flirtatious. Jaebum takes too big a sip of his drink and burns his tongue. Jackson just laughs at his pained expression.

“Like what?”

“That you hate being called Im Jaebum by someone younger than you,” Jackson says with a wry smile. “That you wish I would call you ‘hyung’ but you’ve let it go for so long that you’re afraid to ask.”

“How did you… ?”

“Call it intuition.”

“Call it Jinyoung on speed dial, I think,” Jaebum guesses. Jackson shrugs innocently. Something like hope clenches painfully in his chest. “Well... will you, then? Call me hyung?”

“Nope,” Jackson says cheerfully. “It’s too late now. Plus we didn’t use honorifics like that where I went to school. It’s weird to me.”

“Fine,” Jaebum sighs, feeling slightly crushed. He doesn’t know why exactly, but he really hoped Jackson would call him hyung. It’s the principle of the thing, he tells himself. “Is that all?”

“No way.” Jackson blows on his tea. “I know you lied about being lactose intolerant.” Jaebum tries not to look surprised. He thought he covering that one up pretty well so far. Jackson rolls his eyes fondly. “For one, you’re drinking a macchiato, and you didn’t order it soy. For two, I have seen you eat pizza with my own two eyes. Why lie about that?”

“I don’t like most dairy-based things,” Jaebum explains as though it makes all the sense in the world, because it does to him. “I don’t like cheese unless it’s on pizza. I don’t like cream in any format.”

“Not even whipped cream?” Jackson asks, reeling. Jaebum shakes his head. “Wow. Now _that_ I didn’t know.”

“Why are you here, Jackson?” Jaebum asks suddenly. The curiosity is killing him, and he can tell Jackson is just stalling anyways. “How did you even know I’d be here today?”

“I may or may not be on a secret fact-finding mission on behalf of your roommate,” Jackson says, sliding his finger around the rim of his cup. Jaebum feels nauseous again.

“And what facts are you meant to be finding?”

“Jinyoung says that you’ve been even more gloomy than usual the past couple of weeks,” Jackson says, flicking his eyes up to Jaebum’s with a tentative look. “Gloomy” is a nice way of putting it, Jaebum thinks. Jinyoung probably used some more colorful words. “He wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“You mean he’s annoyed with me, and he’s getting you to do his dirty work,” Jaebum supplies, noting the tiny shrug Jackson gives in response. Jaebum shakes his head. “God, I can’t believe him. Of course he’d bring you into this.”

“What exactly are you sulking over?” Jackson asks. His eyes turn soft as he tilts his head, assessing. “Are you still in love with Jinyoung?”

“Fuck no,” Jaebum snaps, clenching his fists on the table out of anger. Jackson watches them tighten until the knuckles turn white and looks disapproving. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re acting like it,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. He grabs one of Jaebum’s clenched fists and unfolds it, ignoring the way Jaebum flinches at the touch. His short, slender fingers start to massage gently at Jaebum’s palm. Jaebum can’t decide whether it’s nice or the most awkward thing someone has ever done to him. “Rolling your eyes when they hold hands? Sighing in that obnoxious way you do whenever they get couple-y? Talking about Mark like his sole purpose on earth is to make your life miserable? None of that is convincing anyone that you’re not still in love with Jinyoung. So what’s your deal?”

“My ‘deal’ is that I don’t think Mark is right for Jinyoung,” Jaebum says petulantly, feeling the lie burn acrid on his tongue. Jackson keeps massaging his palm, not looking up and giving Jaebum a much-needed break from that critical stare. “It’s all going too fast. How can they possibly be good together when they met three weeks ago? It doesn’t make sense.”

“So is it that you don’t think they’re right for each other, or that it’s moving too fast?” Jackson asks, his voice level and calm.

“Both.”

“How do you know they’re not right for each other?”

“I don’t know, I just feel it.”

Jackson presses his lips together at that and gives Jaebum a disbelieving look.

“Fine, maybe that was a lie, but they could be wrong for each other. No one knows yet because they’re _moving too fast.”_

“Who exactly are they moving too fast for?” Jackson asks, dropping Jaebum’s hand and grabbing the other, starting to massage again. Jaebum doesn’t say anything because he knows the answer and he knows it’s a stupid answer because they’re moving too fast for _him._ Jackson hums lowly, working across Jaebum’s palm in firm strokes. “It seems like you already know the answer to that one.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jaebum says, pushing his chair back and trying to stand.

“Stop avoiding important conversations just because they’re uncomfortable,” Jackson insists, gripping Jaebum’s hand so he can’t leave. He twists Jaebum’s thumb back suddenly until Jaebum gasps with pain. He levels Jaebum with a look, perhaps the most serious Jaebum has ever seen him. “Now, are you going to deal with your emotions like a big boy or am I going to have to break your thumb to get you to have an honest conversation with me?”

Jaebum sits back down. Jackson smiles and resumes massaging Jaebum’s hand.

“What do you want me to say?” Jaebum asks through gritted teeth. He hates everything about this situation, from the way Mark and Jinyoung are suddenly a couple, to the way Jinyoung and Jackson are apparently talking about him behind his back, to the fact that Jackson has some kind of hold over him that isn’t exclusive to the grip on his thumb.

“Whatever you want to say,” Jackson says, focused on working out the tension he just caused in Jaebum’s thumb. “Be honest with yourself for once. Why are you so hung up on this Jinyoung and Mark thing?”

“Because it’s weird, okay? It’s _weird._ Jinyoung doesn’t date people. He just doesn’t. He studies a lot and drinks coffee like it’s his job and reads stupid romance novels and insists that everything be spotless but never cleans up after himself and pines after total strangers but never makes a move. That’s Jinyoung. Nothing about Jinyoung involves having a boyfriend.”

Jackson just nods encouragingly, focused on rubbing the tension out of the muscles in Jaebum’s hand.

“And what’s the deal with Mark anyway?” Jaebum continues, unable to stop now that he’s opened the floodgates. “He just shows up, and what? Fucking _falls in love_ at first sight? What’s that about? Love at first sight is a myth. Lust at first sight, sure, but just because he probably wants to fuck Jinyoung into next week doesn’t mean it’s love.”

Jackson’s face tenses slightly, but he stays silent.

“Besides, _I_ was supposed to be the one who moved on first. It’s not like we agreed on it or anything but we both just assumed that would be what would happen. And now it’s been three weeks and he’s calling Mark his _boyfriend_ and he looks so happy when he thinks I’m not watching and it pisses me off, okay? Fine, I said it. It pisses me off because I was supposed to find someone first and he just walks into a random party and gets a boyfriend and I’m over here all alone like an idiot.”

Jackson looks up at him calmly. “Did you get it all out?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum sighs, feeling his heart race but also feeling like he just removed a pile of bricks from his chest.

“Do you really believe all of what you just said?”

“No.” Jaebum looks off to the side guiltily. He said some things about Mark he certainly didn’t mean. Mark isn’t all that bad.

“But it feels good to get it out, right?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum concedes, looking down to where the fingers of both of his hands are interlaced with Jackson’s. When did that happen?

“You have _got_ to stop holding stuff in like that,” Jackson insists, giving Jaebum’s hands a squeeze. “You’re making yourself miserable. If you had just talked to Jinyoung about all this two weeks ago, things wouldn’t have gotten as bad as they are now.”

“He wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t underestimate him. Also maybe don’t mention the thing about Mark fucking him into next week. That wouldn’t end well.”

Jaebum can’t help but laugh at that. He squeezes Jackson’s hands back.

“Thanks,” he says, meeting Jackson’s gaze head-on for once and feeling something soften inside him. Jackson makes him feel kind of warm and tingly, like after the second shot of soju but before the third hits. Jackson just watches him back, lips slowly tugging into a smile.

“Any time,” Jackson says, and this time he’s the one who ducks his head and looks away. When he looks back up, his eyes are mischievous. “So listen, you’re done with class for today, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good. Come with me.”

Jaebum barely has time to grab his coffee before Jackson is dragging him bodily out of Starbucks and down the street.

“Where are we going?” Jaebum asks, trying not to spill his drink as Jackson pulls him along by the hand. Jackson looks back over his shoulder and flashes a thousand-watt grin.

“To have some fun!”

By the time they reach the bus stop Jackson is looking for, Jaebum’s coffee is long gone, and his patience is quickly following. They have to run to catch the bus, leaving Jaebum panting for air again and wondering why he always ends up out of breath when Jackson has a plan.

“You know, for someone who claims to be a total pessimist, you sure are trusting,” Jackson observes with a smug grin once they’re seated on the bus. Jaebum merely glares at him as he attempts to catch his breath. Between the caffeine and the running, his heart rate is out of control. Jackson watches him for a moment before shaking his head, looking exasperated.

“All right, that’s it. Starting tomorrow, you are on a strict exercise regimen. I refuse to see such an excellent specimen rot away into nothing.” Jackson jabs at his stomach for emphasis. Jaebum wheezes.

“What are you talking about?” Jaebum wipes away the beads of sweat that have collected on his forehead.

“I’m talking about you getting in shape,” Jackson says with a frown. He gestures emphatically at Jaebum’s breathless, sweaty form. “Look at this! What a waste of an incredible body! Thousands of men would kill for your shoulder-to-waist ratio, and you just take it all for granted. No more!”

“You want me to work out with you?” Jaebum asks, incredulous. Surely he can’t be serious. Jackson merely nods, his expression grim and determined. Jaebum panics slightly. “But… I don’t want to.”

“Not optional. If you’re going to keep up with me, you have got to be in better shape.”

Jaebum is at a loss for words. Keep up with Jackson? Who said anything about keeping up with Jackson? He’s more than happy to stay home and eat cup noodles and calculate the least amount of physical effort necessary to get things done. Besides, Jackson is… well, Jackson is fucking ripped. His biceps are bigger than Jaebum’s calves. There’s no way Jaebum can keep up with ten years of intense athleticism. Why even bother? He’ll start exercising later. Like, when he’s thirty, or something. Not now and certainly not with the human Energizer bunny seated next to him.

“Have you figured out where we’re going yet?” Jackson asks, interrupting Jaebum’s minor panic attack over the thought of becoming physically fit. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, leg jiggling up and down at a frantic pace. Jaebum shakes his head. He’d been so busy dreading working out, he hadn’t even wondered where Jackson was taking him. “Good. So here are the rules for today: One, no thinking about Jinyoung.” Jaebum can’t help but frown at the name. “Two, no thinking about Mark.” Jaebum’s frown deepens into a scowl. “Three, no thinking about Mark and Jinyoung together.”

“Well, now you’re just guaranteeing that I’ll think about them,” Jaebum mutters, crossing his arms and slouching down in his seat. Jackson holds up a finger and presses it to Jaebum’s lips, shushing him.

“Stop! You’re currently breaking rules one, two, and three,” Jackson insists with a serious expression. Jaebum’s lips are beginning to feel all tingly where Jackson is touching them. Does he have some kind of weird lotion on his hands or something? Jackson removes his finger. Jaebum licks his lips, noticing how the tingling stopped as soon as Jackson stopped touching him. Jackson’s eyes follow the movement of his tongue. Jaebum tries not to think too hard about that.

“Rule four, you must truthfully answer every question I ask, or face penalties,” Jackson continues, resuming his leg jiggling. Jaebum hadn’t noticed that Jackson had even stopped.

“I don’t remember ever agreeing to these rules.”

“Complaint denied,” Jackson says airily. “Rule five, have fun!”

“I definitely did not agree to these rules,” Jaebum deadpans.

“You inherently agreed to all rules I make when you became my friend,” Jackson says with an shit-eating grin. Jaebum just stares at him.

“Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant,” Jackson says with a wave of his hand. “Do you understand the rules?”

“I don’t understand why there are rules in the first place--”

“Hey!” Jackson smacks Jaebum’s thigh hard enough that it stings. Jaebum rubs at it, wincing. “Do you or do you not understand the rules?”

“I understand the rules.”

“Good, now settle in. We’ve got half an hour to kill.”

Jackson spends the entire thirty-seven minute bus ride quizzing Jaebum about his life, pausing in his inquisition every now and then for extensive monologues about his own past. His leg keeps jiggling up and down at a jackhammer’s pace, until Jaebum can’t take it anymore and reaches out his hand to hold it down. Other than flicking his eyes down to where Jaebum’s hand rests on his thigh, Jackson ignores it, continuing his current story as though nothing happened. His leg stops jiggling, though, so Jaebum keeps his hand there.

By the time the bus reaches its destination, Jaebum has figured out where they’re going. Something about the way Jackson’s eyes seem to practically sparkle in his excitement keeps Jaebum from admitting it, though. He puts his hand over his eyes as instructed and lets Jackson lead him off of the bus, reflecting that a lot of his time with Jackson involves being led blind into various situations.

“Okay, open your eyes!”

Jaebum obliges. In front of them: Lotte World.

“What are we doing here? On a Friday afternoon? In October?” Jaebum asks with a sigh. Of course Jackson brought him to a theme park. Of _course_. He never would have thought of it, but now that he’s here, it makes so much sense. It’s just so… Jackson.

“We’re having fun! It’s half-price admission for students on Fridays before four.” Jackson is tugging on his arm excitedly, slightly hopping in place.

“And you know this because…?”

“Because I fucking love this place! What do you want to do first? It’s practically empty, so take your pick.”

“Rollercoaster?” Jaebum asks. Jackson stops hopping, his excited expression melting into something a little more nervous.

“Woah there, buddy. Let’s work up to that,” Jackson laughs, but it’s forced. “What else?”

“Gyro drop?”

“Are you some kind of adrenaline junkie or something?” Jackson releases his hold on Jaebum’s arm, stepping back and looking affronted.

“What do you want to do first, then?” Jaebum doesn’t even bother trying to keep the smile off of his face. Jackson is pretty adorable and Jaebum hasn’t been to an amusement park in years, and yeah, maybe he’s a little excited. So sue him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jackson says with a mischievous grin. He grabs Jaebum’s hand again and pulls him along.

And that’s how Jaebum spends an entire Friday afternoon at an amusement park without going on a single rollercoaster. They start off at the aquarium, where Jackson introduces him to nearly every fish and octopus and seal as though they are all his personal friends. Jaebum’s never been much of a fan of aquariums (fish are kind of boring unless you’re eating them), but Jackson’s so excited that he hasn’t let go of Jaebum’s hand, and the dim blue light is doing that glowy thing to his skin that makes him look angelic, and he keeps looking back for Jaebum’s reactions to everything with this bright-eyed, hopeful look that makes Jaebum want to hug him, and Jaebum thinks that maybe aquariums aren’t all that bad.

After the aquarium, they thoroughly investigate every single overpriced shop Jackson can find. Somehow, Jackson seems to know all of the shop workers, and they greet him with big smiles and gifts of refrigerator magnets and keychains. Jackson squeals over all of them, promising to add them to his collection. Jaebum wonders exactly how many times Jackson has been here, to have amassed a collection.

Eventually Jaebum pesters Jackson enough, and (after being bribed with a churro) Jackson lets himself be dragged onto various rides, so long as none of them go too high up or move too quickly. When they reach the Gyro Drop, Jaebum looks back at Jackson hopefully. Jackson just laughs fakely at him and pulls him away to ride the teacups again. Jackson really likes the teacups.

Jackson’s favorite ride, however, is the carousel. At first, Jaebum is mortified. The only other people on the carousel require adult supervision. But, nearly six hours after they first arrived at the park, he finds himself riding it again and again until all the kids are gone and he forgets what it’s like not to move in circles anymore. Not unlike an infant, Jackson seems to be soothed by the repetitive motion. He lies draped across his favorite horse (he calls it Lancelot), blinking sleepily and watching Jaebum. Jaebum has only recently noticed that Jackson seems to spend at least eighty percent of their time together just… watching him. At first, it was unsettling. Now Jaebum just wonders what Jackson is seeing, what it is that he finds so fascinating.

“Are you ready to go?” Jaebum asks quietly as the carousel slows to a stop. Jackson nods. Jaebum gives him a hand down from his horse, and they disembark. Jackson doesn’t let his hand go. Jaebum doesn’t either.

“Did you have fun?” Jackson asks, yawning. They stroll through the nearly empty park, swinging their hands between them and watching as the employees prepare to close for the night.

“I guess,” Jaebum says with a shrug, acting unimpressed. Jackson gets a steely look in his eye and pokes Jaebum’s side viciously. Jaebum just laughs. “You forgot something, though.”

“What?” Jackson asks, tilting his head to the side. Jaebum tightens his grip on Jackson’s hand and changes their direction suddenly, pulling him along quickly. “Woah, where are we going?”

By the time they reach Jaebum’s destination, Jackson has figured it out, and is desperately trying to free his hand from Jaebum’s vice grip and make a run for it.

“No. Absolutely not. I refuse.”

“Come on. You can’t go to an amusement park and not ride a single rollercoaster.”

“Yes I can. I do it all the time, actually.”

“What, you scared?” Jaebum teases, dragging Jackson bodily through the completely empty queue. Jackson attempts to latch onto a railing but fails, his fingers slipping off the bar with a loud squeak.

“No!” Jackson insists, but it’s not very convincing with the look of absolute terror on his face and the way his voice wobbles as he talks. “Rollercoasters are bad for my health. Ask any heart doctor.”

“Cardiologist,” Jaebum corrects.

“Whatever.”

They arrive at the front of the line to see the ride technician shutting everything down. He looks up at the commotion Jackson is causing, digging his heels in only to make his sneakers squeak loudly against the floor as Jaebum pulls him along.

“Got time for one more ride?” Jaebum asks breathlessly. Jackson may be small but he’s really fucking strong. He’s also currently attempting to sit on the ground in a last ditch attempt to avoid the rollercoaster. Jaebum hauls him back to his feet.

“Finally facing your fears, Jackson?” the attendant asks, smirking. “I suppose I could run it one more time, for such a noble cause.”

“Not a noble cause, Yoongi-ssi!” Jackson howls as Jaebum pushes him past the barrier and down into the first car. “A very un-noble cause!”

Yoongi just laughs as he pushes the bar down over their laps. “Have fun! Don’t piss yourself! I don’t feel like cleaning that up.”

“Just for that, I will piss myself!” Jackson hollers over his shoulder as Yoongi walks away to start the ride. The car jerks into motion, and Jackson shrieks. He latches onto Jaebum’s arm like a barnacle, leaning against his shoulder. His whole body is shaking. Jaebum does his best not to laugh out loud. It’s pretty funny, though.

“Are you ready?” Jaebum asks, barely containing his glee. The car begins to climb the first slope. Jackson whimpers.

“I hate you. I hate your stupid handsome face. I hate that I ever met you. We are no longer friends. In fact, we are mortal enemies. Someday karma will come for you, Im Jaebum, and when it does--oh god, we’re really high. Oh, oh, it’s turning. I’m gonna be sick, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna kill you, _I hate you I hate you I hate you--”_

The coaster begins its descent, and Jackson dissolves into incoherent screams. He spends the whole three minute ride screaming Jaebum’s name and squeezing his arm so hard it feels like it’ll snap, but Jaebum is too busy laughing until tears stream down his face to care.

When the car pulls back into the station, Yoongi greets them with a gleeful smile and a round of applause. Jackson pretends to be unconscious, and it takes both of them to get him out of the car and onto his feet. Yoongi claps him on the back and his knees buckle, dropping him to the ground with a very unmanly shriek.

“My legs don’t work,” Jackson wails from where he lies crumpled on the ground. He points an accusatory finger at Jaebum, who is laughing so hard he’s having trouble breathing. “This is your fault. Fix it.”

“What do you want me to do, carry you?” Jaebum gasps, wiping away tears. A devilish grin appears on Jackson’s face. Jaebum stops laughing.

He carries Jackson piggyback style all the way to the front entrance, pausing now and again to give his arms a break. He’s definitely out of shape, and the way Jackson keeps pursing his lips as though on the verge of saying “I told you so” whenever he has to stop is really obnoxious. But he makes it the whole way carrying Jackson on his back. Jackson, who can walk perfectly fine. Jackson, who is actually really, really heavy.

“Whatever happened to ‘I’m too heavy, I might crush you’?” Jaebum grumbles as the exit the park. He hoists Jackson higher up on his back and takes a deep breath. Only two blocks til the bus stop.

“That was before you nearly killed me,” Jackson informs him haughtily. His chin comes to rest on Jaebum’s shoulder, right next to his ear. Jackson’s breath on his neck gives Jaebum goosebumps as Jackson whispers his next words. “You deserve to be crushed.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Jaebum says, dropping Jackson abruptly. He covers up the shiver that runs through his whole body with a theatrical stretch. Jackson frowns, the look growing more pronounced as Jaebum rests his hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. He’s exerted more physical effort in the past three weeks with Jackson than he has in the last three years of his life. It’s taking a toll.

“I was serious about you working out with me,” Jackson says, crossing his arms and looking downright judgmental. “This is pathetic.”

“You’re really fucking heavy,” Jaebum pants, righting himself.

“It’s all muscle, bro,” Jackson says, striking a bodybuilder’s pose. Jaebum laughs and jabs Jackson in the stomach. Jackson shrieks his hyena laughter and dances away. When he comes back, his smile is tentative. “This was a good idea, though, right?”

“If I say I had fun, will you stop asking?” Jaebum sighs, but he can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. Jackson nods. Jaebum grabs him by the shoulders and gives him a gentle shake. “Jackson, I had fun.”

Jackson’s pleased smile spreads slowly across his face, until Jaebum feels like he’s melting in it. Jackson raises his arms in the air and cheers loudly, adding a few hops of excitement. Jaebum just laughs as Jackson begins a full-blown victory dance, which is sadly cut off by the arrival of the bus.

Once they’re seated on the empty bus, Jackson hooks his arm through Jaebum’s and leans his head against his shoulder, humming quietly. Thirty-seven minutes is a long bus ride, but Jaebum doesn’t shake him off. Even with Jackson’s sleeping body cutting off the circulation to his arm, Jaebum can’t stop smiling like an idiot.


	4. Fish

Saturday, Jaebum wakes to the sound of pounding on their apartment door. Jinyoung groans and rolls out of bed, knowing perfectly well after years of living together that Jaebum won’t answer it. As he trudges to the door, he mumbles under his breath something about _who the fuck_ and _seven a.m._ and _Saturday morning_ and _for fuck’s sake._

“Jackson? What are you--”

A solid weight lands on top of Jaebum, knocking the breath out of him. He opens his eyes to find Jackson’s face mere centimeters from his own, looking far too awake and excited for anyone’s good.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Jackson sings, grinning widely. He reaches out a finger and boops Jaebum’s nose, causing him to flinch.

“What the fuck?” Jaebum gasps as the air returns to his lungs. On the other side of the room, Jinyoung crawls back into bed with a groan.

“It’s time to go to the gym, remember?” Jackson coos, reaches both hands forward to squish Jaebum’s cheeks between them. Jaebum twists his head away, suddenly realizing that Jackson is lying bodily on top of him. This is problematic for many reasons, the most important of which is that Jaebum is sporting some pretty impressive morning wood. Luckily, Jackson is either oblivious or nice enough not to mention it. Not nice enough to get off of Jaebum, but… “Time to get healthy! Time to get ripped!”

“Are you insane?” Jaebum growls, propping up a knee to try to keep Jackson from making direct contact with his boner. Jackson just adjusts to the position, putting a knee between Jaebum’s legs to support himself. Jaebum curses every deity in the universe that allowed this situation to happen.

“For fitness? Yes.”

“If he is still here making noise in three minutes, I’m murdering you both,” Jinyoung adds, unhelpfully. Jackson merely smiles wider.

“See? Incentive! And here’s some more.” Jackson darts forward, faster than Jaebum’s sleep-addled brain can comprehend, and plants a wet kiss on his forehead. Jaebum recoils with a strangled noise, shoving Jackson off of him with as much strength as he can muster. Jackson just laughs, rolling away like a log.

“I knew that would work,” Jackson says, getting up and heading to Jaebum’s closet. He rifles around for a few minutes while Jaebum sits up and thinks hard about that time Youngjae laughed so hard he sprayed banana milk out of his nose, in the hopes that his boner will go down. Jackson turns around and throws a t-shirt and sweatpants at his head.

“Is this because of the rollercoaster?” Jaebum asks blearily, tugging the clothes off of his face. He checks his phone for the time--7:19 a.m.--before throwing it away, disgusted.

“Yes and no,” Jackson says thoughtfully, approaching Jaebum and holding his hands out to help him up. Jaebum waves him away, standing on his own and clutching the clothes to his crotch just in case. Jackson’s resulting smile is small and wry and far too knowing for Jaebum’s comfort. “No, because you actually are pathetically out of shape, and yes, because fuck you, I almost died on that thing. Say, Jinyoung, you wanna come along? You’re looking pretty doughy yourself.”

“Two minutes.”

“Okay then.” Jackson shoos Jaebum off to the bathroom, and he obliges, if only because he’s still half asleep and this whole situation is so ridiculous that he hasn’t fully processed it yet.

When he emerges, dressed in the clothes Jackson picked out, Jackson is sitting on the ground next to Jinyoung, chattering happily, despite Jinyoung’s face, which looks as though he is seriously contemplating strangling him.

“Your friend has overstayed his welcome, hyung,” Jinyoung says, tone as dead as the look in his eyes. Jaebum is suddenly a little bit concerned that Jinyoung was being serious about the murdering. He grabs Jackson by the back of his sweatshirt and tugs him back, out of Jinyoung’s reach.

“C’mon, Jackson, let’s go… wherever it is that we’re going,” Jaebum sighs. Jackson springs to his feet like a jackrabbit, and Jaebum momentarily questions the sanity of someone so perky at half past seven on a Saturday morning. Jackson takes him by the hand and leads him out of the apartment and into the bitter cold of barely dawn in October. Jaebum wonders why everything he does with Jackson somehow ends up with them holding hands. He also thinks that this whole “exercise” thing would probably be better with alcohol.

The workout itself is probably something sadomasochists invented. Jaebum sweats through his shirt at what Jackson calls a “warm-up,” a brutal three kilometer jog that leaves his lungs on fire and his legs resembling jelly in their ability to support him. Then comes the weightlifting. It’s infuriating enough that Jaebum is terrible at all of it, but it’s made even worse by the fact that Jackson seems to be taking it easy on him. At the end of it all, Jaebum feels like overdone pasta. He mentally blocks the feeling in his legs enough that he can stumble through a shower and back out into the freezing air to follow Jackson to a restaurant for breakfast. Jaebum orders the biggest meal he can afford, calories be damned, and two cups of coffee to start.

“So what did you think?” Jackson asks, having stayed heroically quiet until Jaebum finished his first cup of coffee, under threat of painful death.

“I think I’m never doing that again,” Jaebum grumbles in between bites, willing at least to communicate now that he has food in his belly and caffeine building in his veins.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Jackson scoffs, sipping at yet another cup of green tea. Jaebum still can’t figure out how a person can have so much energy without coffee. It’s an anomaly. “You did pretty well for your first day. You can have tomorrow off, since I normally take a rest day on Sundays anyways, but we’re back at it on Monday, bright and early.”

“You are insane,” Jaebum moans, resting his head on the table and wishing he’d never been born. At least then his muscles wouldn’t be screaming at him like they’re being burned alive. At least then he wouldn’t have muscles to be tortured by the likes of Jackson Wang at all.  
“Nope, just disciplined,” Jackson says with a shrug and a tired smile. He checks his watch and motions at Jaebum’s nearly empty plate. “Are you almost done? I gotta go.”

“Oh,” Jaebum says, realizing suddenly that Jackson wasn’t planning on spending the day with him and getting absurdly disappointed. He finishes off his coffee before standing and digging around for his wallet, bending his head to hide the way he can’t stop his shoulders from slumping. “Where are you going?”

“I still have practice today,” Jackson reminds him. He’s wearing one of those complicated expressions again, like Jaebum did something significant that he didn’t realize, and Jackson finds it endlessly fascinating. “I have practice every Saturday morning, remember?”

Jaebum nearly drops his wallet. “You mean to tell me that after all that stuff we just did, you’re going to go work out even _more?”_

“Yep. You don’t get thighs like these by sleeping in on Saturdays,” Jackson says with a lascivious wink and a subtle caress of his own leg. Jaebum feels like he’s swallowed his tongue. Jackson tosses his head back and laughs, a full-body, high-pitched cackle that draws the attention of the other restaurant patrons. He pushes Jaebum toward the register. “Come on, Mr. Chic and Sexy, if we hurry, I’ll have time to walk you home.”

 

//

 

The following Saturday, Jaebum gets to sleep in again, because after the first one, he drew the line at Saturday workouts. Also, after an impassioned speech about starting out slow and maybe laying it on a little thick about how sore he was, Jaebum managed to convince Jackson to limit their sessions to three workouts a week. Unfortunately, those three workouts were brutal, and Jaebum wakes up feeling achy all over. Even his toes hurt, which, how? And why?

When he wakes up sans alarm, the sun is barely out. He checks his phone for the time: 7:24 a.m. He has a new message from Jackson; the alert tone must have woken him up. It’s a picture of Jackson, in the gym, making a pouty face.

 **J-Flawless:** _I miss you~_

Jaebum is barely awake, but he has to take a moment to bite the edge of his pillow. Jackson can be really fucking cute, okay? And he’s only human.

 **Defjeffb:** _shh I’m sleeping_

 **J-Flawless:** _sleep well <3_

It takes Jaebum a solid hour to fall asleep again after that. There’s something queasy moving around in his stomach, but it’s a good kind of queasy. He thinks he likes it.

After finally getting out of bed well after noon, Jaebum spends the rest of the day moping around the apartment, groaning every so often to remind Jinyoung that he is sore and miserable. Jinyoung retaliates by throwing things at him periodically.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Jinyoung asks with a dramatic sigh, apparently realizing that Jaebum is not leaving or shutting up any time soon. He’s trying to study again, and Jaebum wants to push him off his swivel chair because he’s such a nerd. Who studies on a Saturday night?

“It’s Saturday,” Jaebum says, pointedly sinking further into the couch cushions. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know, with Jackson? I thought you two hung out on Saturdays now.”

“No, we hung out last Saturday because he was forcing me to become physically fit.”

“What about the one before that?” Jinyoung asks absentmindedly, scribbling in his notebook.

“He wanted to see a scary movie and didn’t want to go alone,” Jaebum says, shrugging. Jinyoung looks up at him, one eyebrow arched.

“And the Saturday before that?”

“I don’t know,” Jaebum says, agitated. This conversation is heading a direction he doesn’t like. “We probably hung out because you and Mark kicked me out of the apartment or something.”

Jinyoung just rolls his eyes and starts packing up his notes and things. “One, that never happened--”

“It could’ve happened.”

“--it _never happened,_ and two, if you’re gonna sit around here all night crying about your sore muscles, I’m relocating. You’re driving me crazy.”

“We can’t all be in perfect physical condition like Mark,” Jaebum grumbles, pulling out his phone even though he’s already checked his SNS a dozen times and nothing has changed.

“Or Jackson,” Jinyoung reminds him, slinging his books into his backpack. If the rough way he zips up his bag is any indication, he’s irritated. When he speaks again, his tone is serious, almost pleading. “I thought you were done trashing Mark, hyung.”

“I _am_ done,” Jaebum argues, but he feels guilty all the same. Jackson has spent the last week “reinforcing good behaviors” in regards to Jaebum’s… dislike of Mark. Jaebum admitted that he honestly doesn’t know the guy, and maybe he was too quick to judge, and just because he had some irrational feelings about Jinyoung doesn’t mean that Mark should be punished for it. He admitted all that, and now they’re working on him actually being nice to Mark, which is a lot more difficult than he thought.

“For your peace of mind, we haven’t done anything yet,” Jinyoung says with a sardonic smile as he pulls on his coat and slings his bag over his shoulder.

“Did I ask?” Jaebum scowls, hating how warm his face feels. The last thing in the world he wants to do right now is imagine what Mark and Jinyoung do with the lights out.

“Just so you know,” Jinyoung sings, looking far too smug as the exits their apartment. The slipper Jaebum throws at him hits the closing door, instead of Jinyoung’s face, like he wanted. Damn.

Jaebum feels bored almost instantly after Jinyoung leaves. What fun is whining about his sore body with no one to listen? He flips through his phone absentmindedly, surprising himself when he ends up looking again and again at Jackson’s contact info. He types out about a dozen different messages, from “what’s up” to “wanna hang out?” to “what are you doing right now?” but ends up erasing all of them. Does he sound desperate? He feels desperate. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since he’s seen Jackson and everything feels off. Uncomfortable. Like he forgot to put on underwear.

Suddenly his phone is ringing, and he has to take a minute to calm the funny feeling in his stomach when he sees that the caller is none other than “J-Flawless.” After the fourth ring (not too eager, but also not like he’s ignoring him), he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god! I was worried you wouldn’t pick up!” Jackson’s voice is hushed, and there’s something tense about it that Jaebum instantly doesn’t like.

“Jackson? Is something wrong?”

“You have to come to my apartment right now! It’s an emergency!”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jaebum is already up and pulling on his shoes.

“Just get here! As quickly as you can! Hurry!”

Jaebum’s heart pounds as he yanks on his coat and bolts out of their apartment, barely remembering to lock it behind him as he leaves. He runs--well, jogs? Speed-limps?--the entire way to Mark and Jackson’s apartment building, thanking his lucky stars that someone is exiting the front door just as he arrives so he can catch it before it locks. He climbs the stairs (damn, stairs have never hurt this much in his life) and runs to the apartment. He pounds on the door, counts to five in his head, and tries the door handle. It’s unlocked, so he opens it.

A very surprised Mark is standing just a meter away from the front door, seemingly coming to answer Jaebum’s knock, albeit rather slowly for the situation, Jaebum thinks. He makes a mental note not to rely on Mark in any kind of emergency. He looks around and, not seeing any immediate disasters (or any sign of Jackson), lets out a large sigh of relief and rests his hands on his knees for a moment, catching his breath. One week of exercise has done nothing for his stamina. As he rights himself, he notices Mark isn’t alone. Jinyoung is sitting on the couch, somehow managing to convey both confused and murderous expressions simultaneously.

“Jinyoung? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, hyung,” Jinyoung grits out. Mark just whips his head back and forth between the two of them like an owl, looking adorably baffled. Jaebum doesn’t feel much better.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Jackson says, strolling out of the kitchen with a sandwich in each hand, looking the very picture of relaxed. He takes a bite out of one of the sandwiches and talks through a full mouth. “What took you so long?”

“What took me so long?” Jaebum asks, nonplussed. Clearly there is nothing wrong here, other than the fact that he just burst into someone else’s apartment uninvited. “What’s the emergency?”

“Oh, that,” Jackson says, waving one of the sandwiches casually. “Those two were making out. I sensed impure thoughts, so I called you.”

 _“What?”_ Jinyoung screeches.

“We weren’t--” Mark waves his hands in front of him frantically and looking panicked.

“That’s why you called?” Jaebum asks, incredulous. Jackson flashes an impish grin.

“We were just studying,” Mark continues, attempting damage control. He’s slowly backing away from Jaebum.

“Studying each other’s bodies, maybe,” Jackson pipes up, walking over to hand Jaebum one of the sandwiches. “I mean, I know it technically counts as biology, guys, but I think you’re taking the subject matter a little too literally.”

Having passed off the extra sandwich (Is that peanut butter and… jam? What kind of nonsense is this?), Jackson saunters over to the couch and plops down next to Jinyoung, who is doing an excellent impression of a fish out of water, mouth silently opening and closing periodically. Jaebum notices that his lips are suspiciously red and puffy.

“So Jinyoung, what are your intentions with Mark?” Jackson asks, slinging an arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders. He takes another massive bite of his sandwich and chews with his mouth open.

“My intentions?”

“Yeah. Do you just wanna bone him or are we talking marriage here?”

Jinyoung goes back to his fish impression. Mark rubs at his eyes, looking exasperated.

“Jackson.”

“Mark,” Jackson replies, attempting to look serious despite the twinkle in his eyes. And then Mark and Jackson are conversing in a rapid-fire mixture of English and Mandarin that makes Jaebum’s head spin just listening to it. Mark’s initial irritation gradually melts into something more like resignation the more Jackson talks. Eventually he sighs and looks at Jaebum.

“Jackson wants some privacy with Jinyoung. Come with me,” Mark says, turning toward the bedroom. When he reaches the doorway, Jaebum still hasn’t moved. Mark turns back, sees Jaebum still standing by the front door, and rolls his eyes. “God, I don’t _bite.”_

Jaebum looks at Jackson, who smiles encouragingly and waves him toward the bedroom.

“Go on. And eat your sandwich!”

After another moment of hesitation, Jaebum follows Mark, shooting Jinyoung a questioning look as he goes. Jinyoung just shrugs, clearly equally confused. As soon as Jaebum clears the doorway of the bedroom, Mark shuts the door behind him. He collapses onto the bed and looks up at Jaebum with sigh.

“You may as well sit down. We might be here for a while.”

Jaebum takes a seat, delicately exchanging the sandwich from one hand to the other. His fingers left indentations on the bread, and there’s jam seeping out the sides.

“What is this?” Jaebum asks, holding up the sandwich. Mark looks like he’s trying not to smile.

“Peanut butter and jelly. PB&J,” Mark adds in English, as though explains everything. Jaebum just shakes his head, still confused. “It’s an American thing. I made it for Jackson once when I first met him, and he’s been obsessed ever since. Try it, it’s good.”

“What did Jackson actually say out there?” Jaebum asks, instead of taking a bite, because he’s actually five years old and he doesn’t want to do anything Mark tells him to. He does lick the jam off of the sides, though. It’s strawberry.

“You’re quick, aren’t you?” Mark says with a chuckle. He shakes his head fondly. “He wants to interrogate Jinyoung some more. He’s probably also spilling all my secrets as we speak. And it’s no surprise that he wants us to get along better, so… two birds, one stone, you know?”

Jaebum nods slowly. He looks at the sagging sandwich in his hand and decides to try it, because fuck it, this day is already strange enough. It’s… weird, but not terrible. He can feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching him eat.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

End of conversation.

… Except Jaebum knows how badly Jackson wants him to like Mark, and the guilt of knowing he’s not even attempting to be friendly is nagging at him. He has a feeling he won’t be able to tolerate the disappointed look Jackson gives him when he walks out of this bedroom and admits he didn’t even _try._ So, for the first time in his life, he tries having an honest conversation with someone he dislikes.

“So… Jackson, huh?” Jaebum asks lamely. His voice sounds forced, unenthusiastic, even to his own ears. He would very much like to kick himself. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Mark agrees slowly. He looks like he’s trying to figure Jaebum out. “Although he’s not always like this. He’s been a little more, umm, intense, since he met you.”

“Since he met me?” Jaebum asks, something like hope sparking in his chest. “What do I have to do with it?”

Mark gives him a longsuffering look. “He let you put him on a rollercoaster. Last time I tried that, I ended up with actual scars on my body.”

“So?”

“So he likes you. A lot.”

Jaebum takes another bite of his sandwich to avoid talking. He focuses on chewing thoroughly, instead of on the happy-queasy feeling that’s building in his gut and threatening to make him smile against his will. Mark watches him for a while, before sighing dramatically and putting one leg up on the bed so he’s facing Jaebum.

“Okay,” Mark says, “I’m going to give you a little crash course on Jackson, since he can be kind of difficult, and no offense, but I’m not sure you’ll figure this stuff out on your own.” Jaebum snorts at that but doesn’t interrupt. “First of all, don’t ever give him alcohol. It will not end well. He’s usually pretty good at staying away from it, but he’s also the biggest wimp for peer pressure I’ve ever met in my life, so yeah. Don’t even offer. Second, don’t talk shit about his fencing friends. I know you haven’t met them yet, but you will, and you’re gonna want to talk shit about them because they’re assholes. He loves them, though, and he will never forgive you if you insult them. Third, he acts like nothing gets to him, but he’s actually really sensitive, so think before you speak. Don’t play games with him.” Mark pauses, tilting his head to the side, assessing. “Do you like Jackson?”

“What? I don’t know.” Jaebum looks away, hoping Mark can’t discern anything from his expression. His face feels hot again. Why does that keep happening?

“Right,” Mark says, sighing heavily again. Mark seems to sigh an awful lot. “Well, if you decide you don’t like him, or if you get sick of him or something, do me a favor and like… try to make him hate you, okay? Just don’t make it about him, or he’ll think he’s not good enough for anyone and pine after you for months. Can you promise me that?”

“I didn’t say I dislike him,” Jaebum mutters, before eating the last bite of his sandwich. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mark nodding slowly.

“Okay.”

The sit in silence for a while. Jaebum tries to beat back the feeling of camaraderie that building between the two of them. Mark didn’t have to tell him all that stuff. Jaebum knows he’s just looking out for Jackson, but still, it makes him feel kind of warm inside. Despite Mark’s model looks, they must be pretty similar to have gotten caught up with the likes of Jackson and Jinyoung. Ugh, now he feels like he has to _try_ again. Relationships are the _worst._

“Jinyoung likes romance novels.”

“Oh?” Mark asks, eyebrows raised in surprise. A small smile quirks up the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t let him stay inside reading all day, though. He gets depressed if he reads too much sappy shit, and then he’ll get all clingy, and it’s really annoying. If you read one of his recommendations and talk to him about it, he’ll love you forever. Also, he’s really lazy, and he likes everything to be clean but he never wants to do any cleaning, and he can’t cook for shit. He likes being held but he hates being coddled.” Mark laughs softly, and Jaebum shakes his head. “Yeah, I don’t understand that one either.”

“Well, thanks,” Mark says, clapping him on the back. Jaebum tries not to flinch. He doesn’t hate Mark anymore, but that doesn’t make them _friends._ “You know, you’re a lot nicer than you seem.”

“I’m told I have an intimidating face,” Jaebum mumbles, hanging his head to hide the way his face is getting all hot.

“That you do,” Mark says, standing and stretching. “Should we see if they’re finished?”

When they emerge, they find Jinyoung collapsed against Jackson on the couch, laughing hysterically. Jackson grins like he just won the lottery.

“Are you having fun?” Jaebum asks, suddenly feeling bitter. While he was being forced to have a heart-to-heart with Mark, they were out here giggling like idiots, apparently.

“Little cock!” Jinyoung gasps for air, pounding a hand on the couch cushions. A tear slips down his cheek. Jackson wraps an arm around his shoulder and shakes him back and forth excitedly. “Your dad… calls you _little cock!”_

“That didn’t take long,” Mark says, shaking his head. His eyes are fond, though, and a smile is tugging at his lips. He looks at Jackson. “Thanks for that, buddy.”

“Anytime,” Jackson beams.

“You ate the sandwich?” Jinyoung asks suddenly, wiping the tears from his face. He looks pointedly at Jaebum’s empty hands.

“Yeah, it was good,” Jaebum says with a shrug. Jackson squeals happily, clutching at Jinyoung’s arm.

“Isn’t he chic? But I thought you said he doesn’t like Western food.”

“He doesn’t,” Jinyoung replies, narrowing his eyes slightly at Jaebum in that way that says he sees right through him.

“I was hungry,” Jaebum says defensively, even though he doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain himself to Jinyoung, of all people. "You would be too if you ran all that way.”

“You ran? I’m so impressed!” Jackson coos, fanning himself. Jaebum rolls his eyes.

“Well, since there’s no emergency here, I’ll be going.”

“You’re going to leave me here with these two?” Jackson asks, standing up and motioning at Mark and Jinyoung, who are already scooting toward each other on the couch. When did Mark get over there? “That’s cruel.”

“I don’t really feel like watching whatever this is play out,” Jaebum says. Mark and Jinyoung are oblivious to the world as they whisper to each other, like everything they say is a secret. Jinyoung laughs, batting lightly at Mark’s chest. Mark catches his hand and holds it over his heart. Jaebum grimaces and heads to the door. “See you later, Jackson-ah.”

“Wait, take me with you!” In an instant, Jackson is next to him, pulling a snapback over his eyes and yanking on a coat. He links an arm through Jaebum’s and waves at Mark and Jinyoung, who are already snuggling again. “Have fun, you two! Use protection!”

Jaebum takes a moment to etch the mortified expression Jinyoung has on his face into memory, and then he’s dragging Jackson out of the apartment and into the cold.

 

//

 

When they get back to Jaebum’s apartment, he suddenly remembers the first time Jackson was there, the first day they met. Jaebum has lost track of how many times Jackson has been to his apartment since then, but tonight feels weirdly significant. Who would have thought that the loud, overly clingy guy who followed him home from that party would become his friend? Probably his closest friend, too, apart from Jinyoung, who only wins because he has three years of history on his side.

Jackson makes himself comfortable on the couch, like he makes himself comfortable everywhere he goes. After a moment, Jaebum follows him awkwardly, leaving enough space between them on the couch for another person to fit. Why does it feel so different? Why does Jackson make him feel nervous today? Nothing is different. Well, nothing except the stuff Mark said. _“Jackson likes you… a lot.”_ It’s been on a constant loop in the back of his mind since he heard it.

“So… what do you want to do?” Jaebum asks, rubbing his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants and looking around their apartment for something entertaining enough to hold Jackson’s attention. Jackson barely registers the question, too busy flicking through photos on his phone with a growing frown.

“I need a better picture of you,” Jackson announces. “All the photos I have of you are you sleeping.”

“All?” Jaebum croaks, alarmed. “How many pictures of me do you have?”

“That’s not important,” Jackson insists, scooting across the couch until he’s right next to Jaebum. He raises his phone above their heads, and Jaebum looks up into the front-facing camera. Jackson sighs dramatically. “You could smile, you know. You look like I’m holding you hostage.”

Jaebum attempts a smile. It’s strained, to say the least. It’s just that Jackson is practically in his lap and he smells good, like soap and deodorant and musk, and it’s hard to smile when your heart is beating at a rate that’s probably unhealthy.

“Here,” Jackson huffs, standing up. He pushes Jaebum back against the arm of the couch and pushes his knees apart, until one leg is stretched out across the couch and the other is hanging off of it, before settling directly between them. He leans back against Jaebum’s chest, he head so close Jaebum can smell his shampoo, and uses his free hand to tug Jaebum’s arms around him. He proceeds to take about a hundred selcas, one right after the other, coaching Jaebum into different expressions when he face starts getting stiff and weird. Eventually, Jaebum just rests his chin on Jackson’s shoulder and closes his eyes and waits for it all to be over. He has to admit, being wrapped around Jackson like an octopus is nice, so long as he doesn’t think too hard about how Jackson’s ass keeps moving subtly against his crotch. When he opens his eyes, Jackson is flipping through the photos. He selects a few and sends them to a chat group called “AmeriThaiKong + Browny.” Responses come in almost immediately, but Jackson quickly locks the screen.

“Who’s that?” Jaebum grumbles into Jackson’s ear, not exactly pleased that photo evidence of him draped all over Jackson is being shared with the world.

“Mark and the kids,” Jackson explains with a tiny shudder, tucking his phone into the pouch of his hoodie. “They’re interested in you. The kids, especially.”

“In me?” Jaebum asks, trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of the potentially embarrassing situation that may arise if Jackson keeps _moving his ass like that._

“You are something of an enigma, Im Jaebum,” Jackson says with a breathy laugh. Jaebum curses the inventor of snapbacks for hiding Jackson’s face from view. An enigma? In a good way or a bad way? Before Jaebum can formulate a response, Jackson is pulling his arms away and scooting across the couch to face him. “Let’s watch a movie.”

“What do you want to watch?” Jaebum asks, standing to fetch his laptop from his place on the desk. He pulls up his movie collection and passes it to Jackson, who scrolls through the list before stopping on one of Jinyoung’s dramas.

“What’s this?”

“Something sappy,” Jaebum says, plopping back down on the couch. Jackson smiles and clicks on it.

“Perfect.”

Jackson scoots toward him again, manhandling Jaebum’s legs until they’re in the position he wants them, splayed apart so he can worm in between them like a puzzle piece clicking into place. As Jackson lies back against his chest once more, Jaebum is torn between being excited by the close contact and being worried once again about getting _excited_ by the close contact because Jackson is actually in his lap now and it feels like his nerve endings are on fire.

“Do we have to sit like this?” Jaebum asks tentatively, not wanting to give Jackson the wrong idea but also unsure if he can last ninety-six minutes with him so close when he’s warm and soft and he smells so good and-- “It’s awkward.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” Jackson insists, propping up his knees and resting the laptop on them so Jaebum can see the screen over his shoulder. The opening credits are starting already, and Jackson turns up the volume.

“Take this off then,” Jaebum says, tugging Jackson’s hat off in a moment of impulsivity. “I can’t see the screen.” It’s bullshit, and they both know it, but he like hell is he watching a sappy drama if he can’t even see Jackson’s face. Jackson reaches for it frantically, but Jaebum’s arms are longer, so holds it aloft and chucks it across the room. Jackson stares at it for a moment before hunkering down grumpily.

“Fine,” Jackson huffs. He pulls Jaebum’s arms around him like a seatbelt. Jaebum can see his unhappy expression in profile and he wants nothing more than to take a picture of it because damn if Jackson isn’t cute when he’s pouting. “Can you see now?”

“I can see,” Jaebum says quietly, and he isn’t talking about the screen.

“My hair looks terrible,” Jackson mumbles after a beat of silence. Jaebum chuckles, the movement making Jackson bounce slightly against his chest.

“Jackson-ah, your hair looks fine.”

Jackson rubs petulantly at his hair. “I know you’re just saying that.”

Jaebum catches Jackson’s hand by the wrist, pulling it away from where it’s futzing nervously.

“It’s the thought that counts,” Jaebum hums directly into Jackson’s ear, because he likes the way Jackson squirms a little in response. It makes that queasy feeling in his stomach feel even more sickly sweet.

“I guess.”

“Shut up, you’re missing the movie.”

“Shut up, you’re making me miss the movie,” Jackson mocks, but he’s smiling. For once in his life, Jaebum doesn’t feel the need to have the last word.

An hour into the movie, Jackson falls asleep. Jaebum knows this because he has to catch the laptop from slipping off of Jackson’s knees and onto the floor. He honestly isn’t even surprised. It seems like Jackson is always falling asleep on him. Does he have some kind of sleep disorder or something? Or is he really just that tired all the time? When he’s awake, he seems perpetually alert, but when he sleeps, he crashes hard and fast. Isn’t that a sign of sleep deprivation--falling asleep the second you get the chance? Maybe Jackson’s fencing schedule is wearing him out. Jaebum decides to subtly interrogate him about it later.

When the movie ends, Jaebum wakes Jackson, if only because his leg is numb and it’s starting to get uncomfortable. Jackson sits up and looks around, bleary-eyed.

“How was the movie?”

“Kind of boring.”

“Good, I didn’t miss anything then.” Jackson stretches, moaning in a way that makes Jaebum’s head swim. “Is Jinyoung back yet?”

“No.”

“Can I stay here till he gets back?” Jackson asks casually, as if he hadn’t just read Jaebum’s mind.

“Yeah, you can stay.”

Jackson works on laying out the futons while Jaebum goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he emerges, Jackson is wearing a pair of Jaebum's sweatpants (that’s new, as is the hungry, possessive feeling that erupts in Jaebum's head at the sight of it) and lining up the mattresses edge to edge. Unlike the first time Jackson spent the night, Jaebum doesn’t feel the need to pull them apart. Jackson crawls into Jinyoung’s bed and hunkers down under the blankets, humming sleepily. By the time Jaebum turns out the lights and gets into his own bed, Jackson is asleep again. He’s definitely going to inquire about Jackson’s sleeping habits later, but for now Jaebum is content to watch Jackson sleep, eyelashes fanned against his cheeks, pink lips opened slightly, chest rising and falling heavily. Jaebum is just starting to wonder when his heart was replaced with a bag of warm pudding when he falls asleep to the sound of Jackson’s rhythmic breathing.

 

//

 

When Jaebum wakes, Jackson is watching him. Jackson is watching him from less than a foot away. Jaebum blinks sleepily, taking a moment to remember that Jackson fell asleep in his apartment last night, and this isn’t a dream.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Jackson says with a lazy smile, and holy fuck his voice is deep and sexy in the morning and Jaebum isn’t awake enough to fully process this. He does remember that he was going to ask Jackson something… What was it?

“D’you sleep enough?” Jaebum blurts out, pleased with himself that he remembered his mission when he's so tired and Jackson is so close and looking like he wants to be held, probably. Jackson quirks an eyebrow at him.

“What, like, in general? Or last night?”

“In general.” Jaebum closes his eyes and nuzzles his face against his pillow. He’s satisfied enough with remembering to ask that the answer doesn’t seem so important. Jackson laughs softly.

“I usually get like five hours a night. It’s enough for me. Why do you ask?”

“Not enough,” Jaebum mumbles, wishing Jackson would stop asking questions because he completed his mission, dammit, and he wants to go back to sleep. “Fall asleep too quickly.”

“You’re cute in the morning,” Jackson hums. Jaebum scrunches up his face at that.

“‘M not cute. ‘M worried.” An electronic shutter clicks perilously close to his face. He waves an arm out to stop it, but unless he actually opens his eyes, Jackson has the advantage. “Stop taking pictures of me.”

“Never.” Jackson’s phone keeps clicking, so Jaebum puts his face directly into his pillow, breathing be damned. Jackson sighs. “You’re no fun.”

“Leave me alone,” Jaebum says, but it’s all muffled from the pillow. He suddenly feels hands on his ass, and before he can take a moment to appreciate it, the hands are violently shaking him back and forth.

“Wake up,” Jackson sings as he manhandles Jaebum. “Rise and shine! Let’s get moving, Jaebumie!”

Jaebum rolls onto his back, grabs his pillow, and throws it at Jackson. Jackson catches it and uses it to start hitting Jaebum in the stomach. Jaebum covers his face with his hands and wonders what exactly he did to deserve this.

“I’m up, I’m up,” Jaebum groans, sitting up and stealing the pillow back. He looks at Jackson, sitting on the other futon cross-legged, hair a mess, eyes twinkling, and thinks he wouldn’t mind waking up to this sight every day. The thought makes that nauseous feeling bubble up in his stomach again, stronger than ever before, and he pushes it down, feeling slightly panicky. Why does that keep happening? Does he have an ulcer or something? He should get that checked out. “Why are you waking me up at an ungodly hour on a Sunday?”

“I’m hungry,” Jackson whines. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Now that, I can get on board with.”

They make it all the way to the restaurant before Jaebum realizes that Jinyoung never came home last night. With Jackson’s hand in his, he also realizes that he doesn’t care.

 

//

 

Jaebum agrees to start working out five days a week, much to Jackson’s delight. It’s only because he likes the way his arms have definition for the first time in his life and Jackson has been touching his shoulders an awful lot lately and okay _maybe_ his day is always better when it starts with Jackson. He still won’t work out on Saturdays, but Jackson makes up for it by waking him up early with photos of himself doing ridiculous poses in the gym, so they’re even.

Jackson starts meeting Jaebum at Starbucks on Friday afternoons. Jaebum established early on that this time is quiet time, and Jackson has done a really good job of abiding by it so far. Jackson does homework, and Jaebum writes his songs. He’s been abnormally inspired lately; the songs just flow out of his head like water over stones. All of his songs are about love, too, which definitely does not have anything to do with the bright-eyed person across the table from him. Sometimes he even sings bits for Jackson, who claps loudly (ignoring the stares of the other customers) and urges Jaebum to go to an open mic night. For the first time in his life, he considers it.

One Friday in November, Jaebum decides he’s sick of Jackson coming to a coffee shop and ordering green tea. It’s absurd, and it needs to stop.

“Try something different,” Jaebum begs. Jackson looks skeptical. “I’ll get you something sweet. Decaf. Extra whipped cream. Do you like chocolate?” Jackson’s expression turns sarcastic. “Right, of course. Go sit down. I’ll pay.”

Jaebum knows Jackson’s love of freebies is the only thing that gets him to walk away from the counter without tea in hand. For someone so enthusiastic about literally everything, Jackson actually hates surprises. This is fine, because Jaebum is terrible at surprising people. They suit each other nicely that way.

When Jaebum returns to their table with his usual caramel macchiato and Jackson’s decaf mocha frappuccino, Jackson looks at him unhappily.

“My coach is gonna kill me,” he sighs as he takes a sip. “The things I do for you.”

“Well?” Jaebum asks impatiently. “Do you like it or not?”

Jackson shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess. I mean, my life hasn’t changed by trying it.”

Determined not to let Jackson go until he admits that coffee isn’t completely terrible, Jaebum pushes his own drink across the table. “Here, try mine too.”

Jackson does, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “Ooo, I like this one better.”

“Well now you know, for next time,” Jaebum says, attempting to get his cup back. Jackson holds it out of his reach.

“You can have this back after you try that,” Jackson says, nodding at the frappuccino. He takes another sip of Jaebum’s drink.

“But… there’s whipped cream all over it.” Jaebum makes a face.

“We’re trying new things today, Jaebum,” Jackson reminds him with a shit-eating grin.

Jaebum sighs and takes a sip, deliberately digging the straw to the bottom so he misses the whipped cream at the top. It’s not terrible. Well, okay, it’s kind of good. Jaebum wants to smack the smug look off of Jackson’s face.

“Don’t forget the whipped cream!”

Two can play at that game. Jaebum pops the domed lid off of the cup and sticks his finger into the chocolate-drizzled cream. With some very deliberate eye contact, Jaebum puts his finger in his mouth and sucks, pulling it out with a loud pop. Jackson’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly.

“Not bad,” Jaebum says with a shrug, immediately dropping the act and picking up his pen as though nothing happened. Jackson punches his arm and keeps his macchiato.

 

\\\

 

“Isn’t that Mark’s hoodie?” Jaebum asks, setting down his lunch tray. Jackson is trailing behind him, yelling excitedly at one of his many acquaintances. Jaebum has realized that he can’t take Jackson anywhere without an impromptu conversation with strangers. Jackson always tries to introduce them, but Jaebum has given up trying to remember all of their names.

“Maybe,” Jinyoung mumbles from where he’s curled up against Mark’s side. Mark is busy inhaling a bowl of soup with his characteristic vigor. “I was cold.”

“How long ago was that?” Jaebum asks, motioning at Mark, who is also wearing a hoodie. “Unless he just keeps a spare sweatshirt for you in his backpack.”

“One, that is none of your business,” Jinyoung says, flushing slightly. “Two, I was going to return it after I washed it.” He links his arm through Mark’s. “That’s okay, right?”

Mark shrugs, too focused on his food to fully participate in the conversation. “You can keep it, if you want.”

Jinyoung hums happily and nuzzles his face into Mark’s sleeve to hide the stupid grin on his face. Jaebum pretends to retch onto his lunch tray.

“Jackson-ah! Come here and save me from this!”

Jackson says a quick goodbye to his friend and sits down at their table, giving the obnoxious couple a critical look.

“What did they do now?” Jackson asks, breaking apart his chopsticks. “Was it the nicknames again? C’mon guys, we talked about this.”

“No, they’re wearing each other’s clothes,” Jaebum says, gesturing at the hoodie Jinyoung is wearing.

“I’m not wearing his clothes,” Mark adds through a full mouth.

“Not yet, you aren’t,” Jackson sighs, as though it’s a lost cause. He turns to Jaebum, expression dire. “I found Jinyoung’s socks in our laundry. The blue striped ones you gave him for his birthday this year.”

“Wow,” Jaebum says, placing a hand over his heart. Jinyoung sticks his tongue out. “I’m hurt, Jinyoungie. Hurt.”

“Oh fuck you. Who gives socks for a birthday present?” Jinyoung grumbles, finally releasing Mark’s arm and sitting up.

“Why were you even taking your socks off at their place anyway?” Jaebum asks. Jackson “ooo’s” his approval of the question.

“My feet got wet in the rain.”

“It hasn’t rained in a week.”

“What are you, the sock police?” Jinyoung mutters, poking at his fried rice.

“Hyungs!” Youngjae shouts, approaching the table and setting down his tray. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up talking to my advisor about volunteer opportunities.”

“Volunteer opportunities… where?” Jinyoung asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Youngjae shrugs and averts his gaze, pretending to be fascinated by his food. Jinyoung flicks a carrot at him. “Youngjae-ah! It’s not the animal shelter, is it?”

“No,” Youngjae mumbles. He hangs his head, act breaking almost instantly. “Yes.”

“This kid,” Jinyoung says, reaching across the table to smack Youngjae upside the head. Youngjae squawks and rubs at his ear. “How many times do I have to remind you? You’re allergic to everything with fur!”

“Not everything,” Youngjae whines. “Besides, if I’m going to be a vet, I have to build up immunity.”

“That is _so_ not how allergies work,” Jinyoung says, rubbing at his temples as though they pain him.

Youngjae just shrugs, completely unperturbed. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Mark and Jinyoung were being gross just now,” Jackson pipes up. Youngjae smirks. Jinyoung tries to kick Jackson under the table.

“What were they doing now? Nicknames again?”

“No, that was last week. This week they’re wearing each other’s clothes.”

“Eww,” Youngjae squeals, giggling.

“I know, right?” Jackson crows. “What’s next, couple rings?”

Jinyoung blushes. Jaebum thinks back to the web pages he discovered in the browser history on his laptop. Yep, couple rings are definitely next.

“Jackson, are you ready for the tournament tomorrow?” Mark asks, finally contributing to the conversation now that his bowl is empty. He digs a spoon into Jinyoung’s fried rice. Jinyoung smacks him but lets him take it anyways. Jaebum briefly mourns the unfairness of relationships; last time Jaebum tried to take some of Jinyoung’s food, Jinyoung bit him. Like, actually bit him, with teeth and everything.

“More than ready!” says Jackson, who has the attention span of a goldfish whenever fencing is mentioned. The upcoming weekend is the final tournament of the fencing season. It’s a pretty big deal; the tournament is country-wide and not limited to students, and the prize for first place is two million won. This is the first year Jackson has qualified to compete in the tournament at all, and they’re all going together to cheer him on. Even Bambam and Yugyeom will be coming into the city for it.

Jaebum has been assigned Jackson-sitting duty, so everyone else can gather at Mark and Jackson’s place to make banners and snacks for the tournament. It’s all supposed to be a big surprise, so Jaebum has to convince Jackson to spend the night with him. It’s not exactly a difficult task, once he figures out how to approach it.

“Hey, you should stay at my place tonight,” Jaebum says casually, nudging Jackson with his elbow.

Jackson shakes his head. “The kids are sleeping over tonight, so we can all go together in the morning.”

“You’re not going to get any sleep with them around,” Jaebum argues, looking pointedly at the rest of the table for back-up.

“Bambam did mention inviting me over for a video game marathon tonight,” Youngjae pipes up nervously. Youngjae is not the best at lying. Jaebum tries not to hold his breath. “He’s been wanting to play Sudden Attack with me for weeks.”

“But I haven’t seen them in ages,” Jackson whines, looking to Mark for support. “I was looking forward to hanging out with them tonight.”

“So hang out with them until it’s time for bed, and then go sleep at Jaebum’s,” Mark says simply, as though the answer is obvious (it is--they rehearsed this). Jinyoung nods his agreement. Jackson looks back at Jaebum, uncertainty growing.

“You need to sleep,” Jaebum insists. “And you know you always sleep better at my place.”

“Plus then you can make sure this one won’t oversleep and miss the whole thing,” Jinyoung adds with a nod at Jaebum. Jackson’s resolve crumbles.

“Fine, but only because I’m afraid you’ll sleep through it,” Jackson says with a stern finger pointed at Jaebum. His eyes are soft, though. Mission accomplished.

 

//

 

At Mark and Jackson’s that night, they order pizza and spend a few hours chatting and eating and goofing off. The kids are banned from playing video games until Jackson leaves, and Jackson takes advantage of their undivided attention by showering them with hugs and kisses and teasing jokes and compliments until they’re squirming under the weight of it and begging him to stop.

When ten o’clock hits, Jaebum has to drag Jackson bodily out of the apartment. Luckily, Mark had made him pack an overnight bag before the kids showed up, so Jackson would have no excuse to dawdle, but he tries it anyway. He’s completely wired, even though he hasn’t had a drop of caffeine, and Jaebum realizes it’s from the social interactions alone. What an extrovert.

“Let’s watch a movie,” Jackson says once they’re back at Jaebum’s apartment. He dives for the laptop and opens it.

“Let’s go to sleep.” Jaebum takes it from him and closes the screen. Jackson pouts.

“C’mon, I’m not tired at all,” he whines. “Just one movie. You know I’ll fall asleep right away.”

This is true. History has shown that the combination of a movie and sitting next to/on top of/encased by Jaebum is a recipe for Jackson Sleep Success. Jaebum sighs, and Jackson takes it for the victory it is, immediately taking the laptop back and opening it to scroll through the library. Jaebum decides to lay out the futons in advance, because he learned that lesson the hard way last time. (Jackson refused to get off of him unless there was a bed to get into, but Jaebum couldn’t set up the bed unless Jackson got off of him, and, well… eventually Jackson ended up dumped on the floor and Jaebum got a kick in the shin for his trouble.)

After the beds are ready, Jaebum sits on the couch and motions Jackson over, having assumed the position Jackson prefers for movie viewing. Between the times Mark and Jinyoung not-so-subtly ask them to leave them alone for the night, and the times Jackson just genuinely wants to hang out with Jaebum and ends up spending the night, they’ve done this so many times now that Jaebum has lost track. Jackson sits between his legs and snuggles back against him, and Jaebum wraps his arms around Jackson’s waist out of habit. Maybe he leans in and inhales deeply at the nape of Jackson’s neck. Maybe he hums a little as he does it. Whatever. Jackson doesn’t mind. Jaebum’s had a long week, and if he just so happens to nuzzle his face against Jackson’s neck as the movie starts, it’s because he’s exhausted, not because the smell of Jackson’s soap makes him feel calm and happy. If he also happens to sigh contentedly every few minutes, it’s not because Jackson is soft and warm and makes him feel like Jaebum is home when he’s holding him. That’s not it at all.

“Do I really smell that good?” Jackson asks quietly. Jaebum had already been nodding off.

“Mmm,” is all Jaebum can muster. Jackson shivers violently at that, and in an instant, he’s pulling away, setting the laptop aside and turning to face Jaebum. His expression is complicated in that way that never means anything good for Jaebum.

“What are you doing?” Jaebum asks, grumpy at the lack of warmth. Jackson looks like he’s struggling with something. He chews his lower lip for a moment before looking up with searching eyes.

“Jaebum, what are we?”

"What?" Jaebum’s throat suddenly feels dry. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what do you think we are? The two of us?” Jackson motions between them, looking expectant and so nervous Jaebum’s heart could just snap in half. “Relationship-wise?”

“I don’t know… friends?” Jaebum already knows it’s the wrong answer by the fall of Jackson’s face.

“Oh, so we’re friends. I see,” Jackson says, scooting even further away.

“Wait, don’t be like that,” Jaebum backtracks, grasping Jackson’s sleeve in a desperate attempt to pull him back to five minutes ago. He wouldn’t have been so forward if he knew Jackson would react like this. Somehow this suddenly feels a lot more significant than just watching movies with a friend. So what are they? Jaebum has never actually asked himself. “We’re… best friends?”

Something disbelieving flickers across Jackson’s face before he lowers his head, sighing heavily. When he looks up again, he suddenly looks exhausted. “Humor me for a moment. We’re going to talk about feelings.”

“Feelings?” Jaebum is having trouble swallowing. He can feel his pulse in his throat.

“Yes, Jaebum, feelings,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes. “You know those things you’re constantly suppressing for no goddamn reason?”

Jaebum scoffs at the hyperbole. “Okay, what about feelings?”

“What do you feel when you think of Jinyoung?”

“Annoyance,” Jaebum answers instantaneously.

Jackson smacks his chest. “Be serious.”

“I am serious. Jinyoung annoys me.”

“But not all the time. What if Jinyoung got really sick or hurt, or he got mad at you and wouldn’t talk to you ever again. Wouldn’t you be sad?”

“Well, yeah. He’s my friend.”

“So using Jinyoung as a baseline for friendship, tell me what you think about when you think about me.”

“Uh…” That’s a big leap. Too big of a leap for Jaebum’s brain to comprehend. He searches his mind but all he finds are sirens screeching at him not to mess this up.

“It’s hard, but I know you can do it,” Jackson says, patting his knee encouragingly. “Here, I’ll start you off: how often do you think about me?”

“Every day.” That one seems kind of obvious.

“How often?”

“Like... several times a day, I guess. You _are_ always nearby. Or messaging me. Or calling me. It’s kind of hard to get rid of you.”

“Okay, ignoring that unnecessary addition, you asshole,” Jackson says with another eye roll. He scoots closer to Jaebum. “Now what exactly do you think about, when you think about me?”

“I dunno… How you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Whether you’ve eaten. That sort of thing.” Jaebum feels his face heating up. This is all becoming very embarrassing.

“Do you think about Jinyoung like that?”

“Well… no. I guess not.”

Jackson’s smile is small, hopeful. He scoots impossibly closer to Jaebum and puts a hand on his thigh. It feels heavy and hot in a way Jackson’s touch never has before. “Now, still using Jinyoung as the baseline for friendship, wouldn’t you say... we’re more than just friends?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Jaebum says, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“I want to hear you say it.” Jackson’s face is serious in that way that Jaebum rarely sees. That way that Jaebum usually doesn’t like, because Jackson is supposed to be happy, and affectionate, and enthusiastic, and anything but _this._ He swallows thickly, feeling the weight of the words in his throat before they even come out.

“We’re more than just friends.”

“Good,” Jackson says, seriousness breaking into a contented smile. He picks up Jaebum’s arm to snuggle underneath it again and pulls the laptop back into his lap. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Jaebum sits in stunned silence for a while. Jackson is… more than just his friend? It makes sense, but… this is just a lot of information to take in at once. Does that mean they’re dating? Does he even want to date Jackson? Sure, he’s daydreamed about what it would be like to have Jackson near him all the time, to be the one Jackson calls when he’s upset, to kiss and go on dates and have lazy morning sex, but those are just daydreams. He’s never really considered it as a thing that could happen, as an honest-to-God possibility, and he’s kind of panicking.

“Stop that,” Jackson says with a sigh. His eyes are closed.

“I’m not doing anything,” Jaebum insists, agitated, because Jackson is already falling asleep and Jaebum suddenly couldn’t be more awake.

“You’re overthinking things. Stop it,” Jackson says, as though that’s all it will take to stop the air horns sounding loudly in Jaebum’s head. Jaebum laughs, but it’s strained and nervous, bordering on hysterical. Right, he’ll just stop _freaking out._ It’s fine. Jackson shifts against him, setting the laptop on the back of the couch and rolling onto his side. Jaebum had forgotten that they were supposed to be watching a movie, which is still playing, twenty minutes in and he doesn’t even know who the main character is. “For someone so smart, you sure can be dense sometimes.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaebum asks, trying not to sound irritated and failing.

“Nothing. Let me sleep.” Jackson snuggles against Jaebum’s chest, effectively ending any discussion. Jaebum wraps his arms around him again and starts thinking hard and doesn’t stop until the credits are rolling and Jackson is snoring quietly. He scoops Jackson up (briefly wondering if this new ability had been Jackson’s intention in getting him to work out all along) and tucks him into bed, heart skipping a few beats at the way Jackson clutches sleepily at his shirt and tries to pull him in close. Jaebum lets himself be pulled, because his mind is still spinning and he doesn’t know what to do with himself but holding a sleepy Jackson has never been a bad idea and it’s all he’s got going for him right now. Jackson is dead to the world all night, but Jaebum barely sleeps.


	5. Dreamin'

Jaebum tries not to be weird to Jackson in the morning, but it’s hard. He catches himself staring a lot as they get ready to leave. Jackson Wang, living embodiment of joy and sunshine. Jackson, who is his best friend. Jackson, who says they’re _more than friends._ Jackson, who wants to be more than friends… with him? Im Jaebum, accounting major? Im Jaebum, “bummer of a human being”? It just doesn’t make any sense. Luckily, Jackson’s nervous excitement carries him through breakfast and getting ready. When he pulls out his phone to call Mark and ask where they’re going to meet up so they can get on the bus together, Jaebum stops him.

“You have to be there an hour before it starts, right?” Jaebum asks. Jackson looks confused.

“Yeah, why?”

“Why don’t you let them get a little more sleep?” Jaebum suggests. He’s grasping frantically at straws but some instinctual thing in his body is begging him for just twenty more minutes with Jackson, before he has to see everyone else’s faces. God knows Jinyoung is going to notice something is different with him instantaneously, and he’s not quite ready for that yet. “Since it doesn’t start for a while yet.”

Jackson looks unsure. He hates sudden changes in plans, and Jaebum knows it, but if the way Jaebum’s throat is just perpetually tight no matter how much he swallows is any indication, it’s a necessary evil. He’s just not ready.

“You’re still going to come with me, though, right?” Jackson asks, eyes wide and uncertain, and it elicits a sudden sharp pain in Jaebum’s chest.

“Of course! Of course I’m coming with you!” He waves his hands frantically in front of him. Jackson lets out a big breath.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Jackson says, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go, we’re gonna miss the bus.”

They’re not going to miss the bus, not at all, because Jackson is so anxious about it that they manage to catch the bus _before_ the one they were supposed to ride to arrive on time. Jaebum doesn’t mind though, because he’s keeping an actual tally of the minutes he has with Jackson in his head like a fucking idiot instead of enjoying the way Jackson links their arms and leans against his shoulder. Neither of them speak the whole way, because Jackson is too nervous, and because Jaebum can’t figure out anything to say to make it better. Instead he watches Jackson’s leg jiggle up and down and tries to push the heady feelings away before they take hold and he has a total breakdown on a bus on the way to a fencing tournament with his more-than-just-a-friend.

When they arrive, Jackson spots his teammates immediately. He gives Jaebum’s hand a squeeze before he’s off and running, whooping and shrieking in excitement. Only two of his teammates are also participating in the tournament, but all of them showed up to cheer him on, and their enthusiasm swallows up Jaebum’s tiny _good luck_ before it even leaves his mouth. He can’t compete with that, and he knows better than to try.

Jaebum spends the majority of the hour until the rest of the guys are meant to arrive wandering around the venue, blasting music in his headphones and trying to develop a semi-believable poker face. He thinks it’s working. If he can just maintain it until the tournament is over, then he can get Jackson back and they can maybe talk about some things because he’s still so confused. As soon as the group arrives, laden down with banners and bags of food, his plan falls apart.

“What’s the matter with you?” Jinyoung asks, pulling him aside by the arm. He looks worried. Jaebum breaks the facade instantly. His poker face was always terrible anyways.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Jaebum asks, hating how uncertain he sounds. “Alone.”

Jinyoung nods and follows him into a nearby stairwell. Jaebum climbs the first half-flight and takes to pacing, because just seeing Jinyoung has him freaking out because it’s all real now and what the hell is he going to do?

“Are you actually going to talk, or…?” Jinyoung asks from where he’s leaning against the wall with crossed arms. Jaebum keeps pacing, running hands through his hair in the hopes that it’ll ground him. It doesn’t.

“Did Jackson… say anything? To you? About me?”

“Wait, stop. I’m not doing this alone,” Jinyoung interrupts, eyes suddenly wide. He turns and heads to the door, calling over his shoulder, “Hold that thought! I’ll be right back!”

“Don’t you fucking dare bring Mark in here!” Jaebum shouts, because he really cannot handle that right now. Thankfully, Jinyoung returns momentarily with Youngjae, who looks nervous, like he’s approaching a feral animal.

“What’s going on, hyung?” Youngjae asks, taking a seat on the top stair and patting the spot next to him. Jaebum stops pacing but doesn’t sit. Jinyoung stays at the bottom of the stairs, watching him with serious eyes. Jaebum thinks he understands what zoo animals feel like.

“Are Jackson and I a _thing?_ Like... a couple?” He asks, words tumbling out of his mouth haphazardly. The air is suddenly tense as Youngjae and Jinyoung exchange pointed looks.

“You are somewhat of a couple, yes,” Jinyoung says slowly. He cocks his head to one side questioningly, although his expression is calm and shuttered. “Is this news to you?”

“You’re fucking right it’s news to me!” Jaebum shouts, his worst fears confirmed. He starts pacing again. “Have you all known this whole time? Was I the only one in the dark about this? Does he talk about it with you guys? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We thought you knew,” Youngjae says, shrugging helplessly. “I guess we thought you were trying to keep it a secret or something.”

“I knew that you didn't know,” Jinyoung sighs, running a hand through his hair. Youngjae whips his head around to look at him, eyebrows raised. Jaebum stops pacing. “Well, I had a feeling you didn’t know. I was kind of hoping you’d figure it out on your own by now, though. Did Jackson say something? Is that what brought this on?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, sinking down on his heels. He feels like he’s about to vomit. “He said we’re more than friends, and I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Youngjae asks gently.

“Well, no. I’m just surprised. It’s totally out of nowhere.”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes. Youngjae shoots him a warning look before turning back to Jaebum.

“Do you want to be more than friends?”

_Yes._

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it--”

“Are you in love with him?” Jinyoung interrupts, leaning against the wall. Jaebum almost falls backwards on his ass.

“What? I don’t know!” he squawks. Who said anything about love? He’s still trying to wrap his brain around the concept that Jackson wants to do more than just hold hands. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at him. Jaebum ducks his head and rubs at his face, which is suddenly burning. “I’ve never been in love, okay?”

“First of all, umm, ow,” Jinyoung says bitterly, crossing his arms again. “Second of all, think about him for a minute. How do you feel when you’re with him?”

“Happy?” Jaebum guesses. Jinyoung rolls his eyes again, so hard Jaebum kind of hopes they’ll get stuck up in there. He thinks about it for a moment. He’s noticed recently that that happy-sick feeling he keeps getting only happens when Jackson is around, or when Jaebum is thinking about him. Hoping that’s what Jinyoung is getting at, Jaebum gives it a shot. “I feel nauseous.”

“But it’s a good kind of nauseous, right?” Jinyoung prods, stepping closer. “Kind of like your stomach is trying to come up out of your throat? And your head feels foggy, like you can’t think straight?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, feeling a tiny weight lift off of his shoulders. Jinyoung understands. But how? Is that how Jinyoung feels about Mark? Does that mean that Jinyoung is--

“What about when you’re not with him?” Jinyoung asks, interrupting his train of thought. Jaebum is kind of glad about that, though, because he didn’t like where that particular train was headed. When Jaebum looks up, Jinyoung’s expression is encouraging, expectant. “What do you feel then?”

“Umm, kind of bored? And empty, like something is missing.”

“Like _a part of you_ is missing?” Jinyoung prompts.

“Well, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jaebum agrees with a shrug. Jackson is around so much, he does sort of feel like a part of Jaebum. Not like an extra appendage, though. More like a part of him that he didn’t know was missing until it appeared, and now he can’t imagine living without. But he’s not going to say that out loud; Jinyoung would never stop teasing him for saying something so sappy.

“What about when he’s sad? How do you feel?” Youngjae asks, seeming to catch onto whatever strategy Jinyoung is employing.

“He’s never sad,” Jaebum says with confidence. “That’s what I like about him.”

“But if he were to get sad for some reason,” Jinyoung leads. “If someone were to do something to make him sad, what would you do?”

“Well, first of all I would find whoever messed with him and--”

“Yes, you like using your fists instead of your words, we’re aware,” Jinyoung sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What I meant was, what would you do to make him feel better?”

“Anything,” Jaebum says instantly. It’s true, he can’t think of something he wouldn’t do for Jackson. He’d probably draw the line at killing someone, but if Jackson had a really good reason...

“Do you see where we’re going with this, hyung?” Youngjae asks, giving him a nudge. Jaebum shakes his head. He was too busy being slightly appalled at himself for being willing to kill a man if Jackson asked him to. Youngjae sighs, and Jinyoung climbs a few steps until he’s level with Jaebum, and puts his hands on his shoulders.

“You feel good nauseous when you’re with him. You feel like a part of you is missing when you’re not. You would _physically harm_ someone who made him sad. You would do anything to make him happy. Take a minute and think about what all of that means, please. Examine your feelings.”

This _feelings_ bullshit again. Jaebum is getting really sick of it, but Jinyoung’s look broaches no argument, so he sits back, shaking off Jinyoung’s hands, and thinks about Jackson. How he smiles with his front teeth out, his enthusiasm for everything under the goddamn sun, his hyena laugh, the way he’s simultaneously overprotective and so vulnerable, that gleam in his eyes when he’s trying to make someone laugh, the way his face sort of lights up whenever he sees Jaebum. The thousand and one things that are unique to Jackson. The thousand and one things that Jaebum loves about him.

 _Love._ The realization hits Jaebum like a sucker punch to the gut. He drops his head in his hands, trying to get his breath back. He feels drunk, or high, or some wicked combination of the two. He wants to go back to bed and pull a blanket over his head until all of this stops and he can get a grasp on his own emotions again, because they’re currently spiraling out of his control and he kind of hates it.

“Oh my god,” Jaebum gasps. He feels like his entire world is shattering and being put back together in a different arrangement. _“Oh my god._ I’m in love with him. I’m in love with Jackson. _Fuck.”_

Jinyoung starts slow clapping. Youngjae bumps Jaebum’s shoulder excitedly with his own.

“Good job, hyung! I knew you could do it!”

“I have to go see him,” Jaebum says, standing abruptly and wobbling a little at the head rush. He feels antsy all of a sudden, like nothing will be resolved until Jackson is in front of him. He descends the stairs, stopping short when Jinyoung follows him and steps in his way with his hands out.

“No you don’t, because he’s about to go compete in the biggest tournament of his life, and the last thing he needs is a confession from you shaking him up and breaking his focus.”

Jaebum is torn. Jinyoung is right, but Jaebum doesn’t think he can make it the whole day without at least talking to Jackson. “But I have to--”

“What you have to do is keep your mouth shut about this, all day. I mean it. No touching, no kissing, no talking.”

“I have to talk to him, at least,” Jaebum near-whines. He sounds as pathetic as he feels. “He’ll know something is wrong if I just ignore him.”

Jinyoung thinks about that for a moment before nodding. “Okay, you can talk to him, but only about fencing. Nothing else.”

Jaebum just weaves back and forth where he stands, trying to find his resolve and failing. He may as well be a puddle of goo for all it’s worth. He has nothing, nothing except a still-burning need to see Jackson and the start of a headache.

“Do it for Jackson-hyung, okay?” Youngjae says, pounding Jaebum on the back. Jaebum’s knees nearly buckle, but he holds himself up and nods. He can do that. If it means Jackson will have a chance at winning this thing, he can shut up. If worse comes to worst, he’ll just go out behind the gymnasium and scream for a while. It’ll be fine.

“Okay, I can do it.”

Jinyoung gives him an assessing look before nodding and stepping aside. “Good, let’s go. I think it’s starting.”

When they emerge from the stairwell, Mark, Bambam, and Yugyeom are waiting. Mark looks worried and Bambam and Yugyeom are just plain confused. Jaebum turns right back around to return to the stairwell because he thought he could do this but nope, he cannot. Youngjae catches him by the sleeve and hauls him back out. He knows his face is practically burgundy, and the way Mark is staring like he just figured it all out makes it so much worse. Jinyoung pulls Mark to the back of their group as they all head into the gymnasium, and as Youngjae drags him along, Jaebum catches snippets of their conversation. “Bad timing,” and “teammates,” and “angry,” and “watch him.” He doesn’t know what it all means, but it doesn’t sound good. When he looks back at them, Mark stops talking instantly. Definitely not good.

Before Jaebum can ask what that’s all about, they’re finding their seats and the athletes are parading out. Jaebum looks through dozens of white suits and black heads of hair for _his,_ and suddenly he’s there, looking so small among all the other competitors, but still smiling, always smiling. Jaebum pinches the inside of his thigh to ground himself because he wants nothing more than to vault the railing and run across the gym and haul Jackson out of here. Jinyoung puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but Jaebum shakes it off. He can do this. He can control himself. He’s not an animal, after all; he’s a human being. A human being in _love,_ and that word still makes him shudder, even just thinking it.

The first matches start almost immediately. Jaebum is surprised at first; he’s never seen a fencing match, after all, and it’s not quite what he expected. The opponents lunge at each other viciously, often making contact within seconds of the referee calling _allez!_ Jackson isn’t competing yet, but Jaebum begins to worry. He knows Jackson is good at this; he has to be to have made it this far, but he just can’t picture the cheerful, goofy guy he knows being so… violent. How can Jackson be good at this? Jackson, who is scared of rollercoasters. Jackson, who doesn’t even drink alcohol because it’s too much for him. It doesn’t make any sense.

Before Jaebum can subtly ask Mark or Yugyeom or Bambam about Jackson’s history with the sport, because surely he’s missing something here--these guys are big and vicious and surely they’re gonna end up beating Jackson into the ground--Jackson is up for his first match, and Jaebum holds his breath. Jackson shakes hands with his competitor (who is at least five centimeters taller than him and several kilograms heavier) and backs up behind the white line of the little runway thing that they play on before pulling his mask over his face. Both men assume the starting position, and the referee calls the start of the match, and Jaebum figures out why Jackson is so good at this.

Jackson is _fast._ Like, super-human fast. Like, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fast. He lunges so low that Jaebum thinks he’ll just fall flat on his face, and cuts at his opponent with his sword thing, and a buzzer sounds, all in less than three seconds. Lights blink on Jackson’s face mask and on the board behind him under the letters that read “Wang,” and Bambam, Mark, and Yugyeom cheer loudly. Jackson raises his hands in the air and shouts, loud enough for Jaebum to hear him over the sounds of a packed gymnasium.

“He got the first point,” Bambam informs them as he sits back down. Youngjae nods, clearly trying just as desperately as Jaebum to figure out what’s going on. “The light on his side goes off when he scores the point. When it goes off on both sides, it gets more complicated.”

A number one shows up beneath Jackson’s name on the board, and the opponents return to their starting positions. The referee immediately calls start again, and they lunge at each other once more. The other guy gets the second point, and on and on it goes, so fast Jaebum can barely keep up. Fifteen minutes later, the match is over, and Jackson won, and Jaebum feels like he has whiplash.

The thing that strikes Jaebum most as the day goes on and he watches Jackson compete again and again in these ridiculously fast, ridiculously intense matches is how manly Jackson seems out there. From the way he attacks first nearly every time to the way he shouts after every point, even the ones he loses, he just seems sure of himself in a way Jaebum never sees. When Jackson is with him, he’s always a little uncertain, always willing to change to fit what the situation needs. Earnest and happy and enthusiastic, certainly, but also malleable. The Jackson he sees out there on the pitch (which is what Yugyeom tells him the runway thing is called) is firm and unmoving, completely confident in every step he takes. Jaebum feels awed, and a little bit proud, because that’s _his_ more-than-a-friend out there and he’s winning, he’s winning every match so far.

It’s only after the second match that Jaebum notices Jackson’s teammates out there cheering him on from the sidelines. Only the two of them that are also competing are allowed out on the floor, but they greet him with hugs and pats on the ass. Jackson just laughs at them and gets a drink, but Jaebum wonders. It’s just a sports thing, right? Athletes do skinship all the time, it’s not a big deal. Jaebum still feels unsettled though, a feeling which only grows when Jackson heads back out to his next match, and one of the teammates pinches his ass hard enough that Jackson jumps away from it. Jaebum watches as Jackson rubs at the sore spot as he walks away, and notices that he’s not smiling.

After the third match, it happens again, and after the fourth, too. Jackson smiles at his teammates until he turns away, and the smile drops like a weight from his face as he rubs distractedly at whatever part of his thigh or ass they pinched or slapped that time. Jaebum starts to feel nauseous, and not the good kind. He turns to find Mark and Jinyoung watching him with worried looks.

“What the hell is that about?” Jaebum asks Mark.

“Remember what I told you? They’re douchebags,” Mark says seriously, shaking his head. He’s clearly just as irritated about it, but more resigned, like he’s seen this too many times to get worked up about it anymore. “Seriously, don’t bother talking to him about it. He denies everything.”

“Jackson-hyung doesn’t mind it, anyways,” Yugyeom adds, as though that will make Jaebum feel better. It doesn’t.

“Just be glad there’s only two of them out there,” Mark says under his breath, and Jaebum feels something sour start building in his stomach.

Halfway through the day, they break for lunch, and the athletes swarm out into the bleachers to meet their waiting families and friends. The kids start unpacking the lunches they brought in anticipation of Jackson’s arrival, and Jinyoung takes a moment to remind Jaebum of The Rules.

“Just don’t start crying,” Jinyoung insists, squeezing Jaebum’s arm almost painfully.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Jaebum scoffs, shaking Jinyoung’s hand off. He’s busy looking through the mess of people because Jackson isn’t here yet and shouldn’t he be, by now? What’s taking so long?

“Sure you won’t,” Jinyoung says, patting Jaebum’s shoulder. Mark comes up behind Jinyoung.

“If you run out of things to say, just talk about fencing, okay?” Mark suggests. “And don’t mention his teammates, he’ll just get mad at you.”

“I think I know how to talk to my--” Jaebum stops short. His what? Boyfriend? That’s not the right word, not yet anyways. He blushes at the knowing smirks exchanged all around him. “Shut up. I know how to talk to Jackson. It’s not like I’ve never talked to him before.”

“But you haven’t talked to him since--” Youngjae starts, but Jaebum cuts him off with a hand over his mouth, because Jackson is finally approaching, and now is _so_ not the time for this.

Youngjae, Yugyeom, and Bambam raise their banner up and cheer as Jackson approaches, and Mark and Jinyoung clap loudly. Jaebum does nothing, because he’s suddenly forgotten how his body even works and all he can do is sit there and stare. Jackson ducks his head, grinning shyly, and waves them down like a celebrity trying to calm rabid fans.

“I’m here, I’m here, magnificent fencer Jackson Wang is here,” Jackson says, squealing at his own cheesy words. Everyone swarms him, patting him on the back and telling him how cool he is, how good at fencing, and Jackson practically glows under the praise. He’s watching Jaebum, though, clearly waiting for him, but Jaebum still can’t figure out how to move his legs, so he stays put.

After Jackson is given food and drinks, he sits on the bench across from Jaebum, looking expectant. Jaebum tries really, really hard not to tackle him.

“So… what do you think?” Jackson asks, holding his lunch but not eating it, as though he can’t be bothered with food until he finds out what Jaebum has to say.

“I think you’re really good at this,” Jaebum finally chokes out, and yeah, that’s obvious, but Jackson grins all the same.

Jackson digs into his food, somehow managing to get some of it on his face, and Jaebum leans forward instinctively to wipe it off. As his thumb brushes the corner of Jackson’s mouth, Jackson startles. When he realizes what Jaebum is doing, he smiles at him goofily, and Jaebum melts a little. It’s just _Jackson,_ after all. How many times has Jaebum wiped mayonnaise or cheese or whipped cream or god knows what else off of Jackson’s face because Jackson was so enthusiastic about his food that he didn’t notice he was also wearing it? Just because Jaebum has realized he’s in love with him doesn’t mean everything has to change. They can still be like this, just easy with each other, relaxed and not overthinking everything, just… with the addition of making out. Jaebum leans forward, thinking he could probably remove the food much more effectively if he uses his tongue, when Jinyoung pointedly clears his throat. Jaebum startles himself out of his daze and takes a deep breath. What was he supposed to talk about if he couldn’t think of something to say? Fencing, right, duh.

“I mean, I don’t really know what’s going on, but you keep winning, so that’s good.”

“Oh my god!” Jackson exclaims, dropping the piece of kimbap he had halfway to his mouth. “Did I never explain to you how a fencing tournament works?”

“Not really,” Jaebum says with a shrug. Jackson’s face falls. “But it’s okay, Yugyeom and Bambam have been explaining--”

“Like hell they have,” Jackson interrupts with a scoff. He looks over at the kids, who are busy stuffing their faces. “Gyeom-ah! What type of fencing do I do?”

“Uhhh… the good kind?” Yugyeom guesses. Jackson throws an empty bottle at him. It hits Yugyeom’s hand and knocks the apple slice he was holding out of it. Yugyeom looks at his lost snack on the dirty floor and pouts, while Bambam and Youngjae laugh at him.

“See? These idiots have been watching me for three years and they still don’t know,” Jackson says with a heavy sigh. “For one thing, the type of fencing I do is sabre, and for another, it’s called the _piste_ \--” Jackson raises his voice slightly and looks pointedly at Yugyeom, who ducks his head sheepishly-- “not the _pitch._ This isn’t cricket.”

“That’s great, but you don’t have to explain it to me,” Jaebum says, passing Jackson another drink to replace the empty one he threw at Yugyeom. “You should just focus on eating. You don’t have much time, right?”

“It’s fine,” Jackson says, with a wave of his hand. He stuffs food in his mouth and talks around it. “I can eat and talk, see? Besides, this is more important. What are you gonna do if I make it to the end and you can’t even tell if I won or not?”

“I think I’ll be able to figure out when you win,” Jaebum says with an eye roll. Jackson stops chewing suddenly.

 _“When_ I win?” Jackson asks, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, when,” Jaebum says, knowing perfectly well that he probably looks like a lovesick idiot and not caring one little bit.

Suddenly, Jackson clutches at his chest, looking pained, and tips backward, almost falling off of the bench. Jaebum panics and reaches for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake.

“Jackson! Are you okay?”

“My chest hurts,” Jackson gasps, drooping in Jaebum’s grasp. He closes his eyes, and his brow crumples in pain. After a moment of Jaebum fluttering his hands nervously all over Jackson’s body, Jackson cracks one eye open and a tiny smile turns up the corner of his mouth. “You’re just so chic, it’s giving me a heart attack.”

Jaebum pulls back like he’s been burned, and Jackson rights himself, dramatics forgotten as he laughs hysterically at his own joke. Realizing it was all an act and getting royally pissed off, Jaebum hauls back and punches Jackson in the arm (the left one, because he’s mad, not a monster). He was actually worried, dammit, and he can still hear his pulse in his ears even over the sounds of Jackson’s laughter. Off to one side, Bambam and Yugyeom start fake-vomiting loudly, and on the other side, Jinyoung is snapping pictures with his phone. Jaebum glares at all of them.

“Were you actually worried?” Jackson asks, pulling Jaebum down onto the bench next to him. He hooks his arm through Jaebum’s and leans against his shoulder, looking up with doe eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that again,” Jaebum says sternly, but inside he’s melting. His pulse is slowly returning back to normal. Jackson nods solemnly, but he’s still smirking a little bit.

“You got it. Now let me explain how fencing _actually_ works.”

 

//

 

Jackson makes it all the way to the finals. Jaebum has never been more nervous in his life. He ignores Mark’s side-eye and grabs Jinyoung by the wrist, squeezing until Jinyoung whines and pulls him off, after which he switches to clutching at Youngjae on his other side. Jackson steps onto the piste and bows to his opponent. The referee calls start, and Jaebum holds his breath.

The match is closer than any they’ve seen that day. Both opponents are clearly exhausted, and the usual quick-jab-to-score-a-point strategy isn’t working because they’re both so _fast_ that even the judge can’t tell who hit first. Every point Jackson wins is hotly contested by the other team, which earns them a yellow card for interfering at one point. Jaebum just worries that it’s shaking Jackson’s confidence, but with the mask on, he can’t tell whether Jackson is nervous or not. His only indication is in the severity of Jackson’s yells after each point, and the way he bounces his leg up and down in between plays. Jaebum thinks he’s going to throw up at least thirteen different times.

At the end, the score is tied. The opponents stand behind their lines, and Jaebum springs to his feet, ignoring the frustrated noises coming from the spectators behind him. The referee calls start, and Jackson lunges faster than Jaebum’s brain can comprehend. The light blinks red under his name on the scoreboard, indicating that he won the point. _He won._ The gymnasium erupts in cheers, and Jaebum hollers with the best of them, clapping until his hands tingle. Jackson’s teammates swarm the piste, hoisting him up on their shoulders, and when Jackson removes his mask, Jaebum can see his toothy smile from all the way up in the bleachers. The teammates toss him up and down, chanting something as they parade him around the gymnasium.

“What are they saying?” Jaebum asks, not daring to look away for even a second.

“‘Honey thighs,’” Yugyeom says, laughing. “That’s his nickname.”

At that, Jaebum looks away from the scene below. Mark is watching him intently again.

“I thought his nickname was ‘J-Flawless,’” Jaebum says, confused and not in a good way. What kind of a nickname is ‘Honey Thighs’? Between the fondling and the nickname, something doesn’t feel right. Jackson never mentioned something like this about his teammates before.

“They haven’t called him that in years,” Yugyeom explains offhandedly. “Not since his freshman year, I think.”

Jaebum just nods, turning away from Mark’s assessing gaze as the adrenaline from Jackson’s win leaks out of him almost instantaneously. He watches as the team members take their sweet time groping Jackson all over under the guise of congratulations. The words “honey thighs” seem to echo relentlessly in his head.

The group eventually makes their way to the floor of the gymnasium with the rest of the crowd, pushing through the people who are trying to leave. Bambam explains as they inch along that the medal ceremony is usually half an hour after the last match, but it’s more of a formality than a spectator event, and most people don’t stick around to watch it. Jaebum is just beginning to think that they’ll spend the whole half-hour stuck in this throng of indifferent people creeping along at a meter an hour, when a pulse in the crowd pushes them forward in the right direction, and he sees that unruly head of hair he’s looking for.

“Jackson-ah!” Jaebum shouts through cupped hands. The head whips around at the noise, and Jackson finally sees him, his face breaking out in the biggest, most beautiful smile Jaebum has ever seen. In the blink of an eye, Jackson is running full speed at Jaebum, people diving out of his way rather than be bowled over. As the distance closes, Jackson shows no sign of slowing down, and Jaebum can do nothing but hold his arms out and brace for impact. Jackson yells as he launches himself at Jaebum, nearly knocking the wind out of him as their chests connect. He wraps his arms around Jaebum’s neck and those notorious thighs around his hips, and all Jaebum can do is put his arms around Jackson’s waist and tuck his face into Jackson’s shoulder to hide the way his eyes are leaking a little bit. Luckily, Jackson is very sweaty, so no one will notice the extra wet spot on his white uniform. Jackson laughs and squeezes Jaebum a little tighter before untensing and dropping back to the ground. He keeps his arms around Jaebum’s neck, though, and Jaebum keeps his hands on Jackson’s waist, and they just stay there for a moment, Jackson smiling brighter than the sun shines, and Jaebum trying his best to swallow past the lump in his throat because Jackson is _here_ and he _won_ and it’s all so painfully real that he can barely stand it.

“So what did you think?” Jackson asks, bouncing on his toes and inadvertently jostling Jaebum’s neck. He wipes his sweaty face against the white fabric on his own shoulder. Jaebum’s hands twitch impulsively on Jackson’s hips.

“That was incredible,” Jaebum says, meaning it with every fiber of his being. Jackson smiles impossibly wider and ducks his head shyly, and Jaebum sees red tinge the tips of his ears. When he looks up again, those big eyes are earnest and vulnerable and so sweet that it hurts to look at them for too long, and Jaebum thinks that there hasn’t been anything more beautiful in the entire history of the world. Just as Jaebum starts to duck his head down to meet Jackson’s because he’s been waiting all day for this and fuck spectators, he’s in love and he’ll stand up and shout it if it means Jackson will just kiss him already, the speaker system crackles to life.

“All athletes please report to the staging area for awards.”

Jackson releases Jaebum, taking a step back and looking slightly guilty.

“I gotta go.”

“Go get your trophy, J-Flawless,” Jaebum says, even though it takes every ounce of strength he has to do so. Jackson’s smile is back as he heads off in the direction of the stage. He pauses after a few meters and looks back at Jaebum, uncertain.

“You won’t leave, right?”

“Of course not,” Jaebum says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, because it is. He’s decided just now that he’s never going anywhere without Jackson ever again, so where else would he go? It’s the answer Jackson was looking for, because he squeals a little bit and runs the rest of the way to the stage, looking back over his shoulder every now and then like he’s making sure Jaebum is still there.

“That was disgustingly cute,” Jinyoung says from where he’s draped around Mark’s shoulders like a cape. Hypocrite. The younger boys collectively raise a teasing cry of “wooo,” effectively ruining Jaebum’s good mood.

“Whatever, let’s go,” Jaebum mutters, heading off in the direction Jackson went. He hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels.

The awards ceremony goes exactly as every other award ceremony Jaebum’s ever seen. Names are announced, trophies and medals are given, pictures are taken. It’s only once they get to Jackson that Jaebum pays any real attention. Jackson’s name is called, and he mounts the stage to riotous applause. People hand him a bouquet of flowers and a trophy and put a medal around his neck. Someone comes out with one of those ridiculous oversized checks, and Jaebum gets all emotional again. He completely forgot that there was a monetary prize for this thing, and if anyone deserves to have two million won just given to him, it's Jackson. Jackson is smiling so big it’s like his jaw is going to snap off.

When the ceremony is over, Jackson jumps off the stage and makes a beeline for Jaebum. He passes his flowers to Bambam and sets his trophy on the ground, pulling the medal off from around his neck.

“This is for you,” Jackson says, placing the blue ribbon around Jaebum’s neck. The medal is really heavy, and even though Jaebum knows it’s not real gold, it sure looks like it. In addition to the heft of the medal, Jaebum can also feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on them. Jackson is, of course, oblivious to the attention, merely focused on the sentimental moment. He almost looks shy as he steps back, eyeing the medal where it lies against Jaebum’s chest. “You’re my good luck charm.”

“I really can’t keep this,” Jaebum says, fingering the medal for a moment before pulling it off over his head. He holds it out to Jackson, who looks disappointed. “It’s yours. You earned it.”

“No, you earned it, by supporting me and bringing me good luck,” Jackson says, taking the medal and stuffing it in the front pocket of Jaebum’s jeans. His hand lingers there, and Jaebum can feel the warmth of it through the thin material of his pocket lining, and he’s finding it difficult to think straight because suddenly all the blood in his body has rushed to that area. Jackson’s expression is intense as he deliberately twitches his hand in Jaebum’s pocket, and Jaebum has to bite back a gasp and contain the urge to just toss Jackson over his shoulder and find the nearest lockable room so they can maybe relieve the pressure that’s steadily building behind the zipper of his jeans.

“Honey Thighs!” Someone calls, startling them out of the moment. Jackson removes his hand quickly and steps back, and Jaebum notices the deep, shaky breath he takes before he’s turning to face his teammate, who is the source of the voice. A few of them approach, one of which is still in uniform like Jackson. “You ready to party?”

“That depends,” Jackson says, back in fun-loving teammate mode so quickly it’s almost as if he hadn’t just attempted to fondle Jaebum through his pocket. He turns back to Jaebum, flashing a cheeky grin. “On whether or not Jaebum here is coming along.”

Jaebum suddenly feels the weight of the teammates’ gazes as they openly stare at him, expressions judgmental. As a unit, their body language collectively screams “unimpressed.” Jaebum hangs his head.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Jaebum says to Jackson quietly. Not only is he feeling completely unwelcome by the group, but he also isn’t sure if he can make it through a whole night of celebrations with them, when he has seen what they do to Jackson’s thighs without remorse. Jackson looks crushed, though, and it breaks Jaebum’s heart a little.

“Come on, Jaebum,” Jackson whines.

“Yeah, come on, Jaebum,” one of the teammates mocks. The man’s eyes hold an unspoken challenge. So it’s to be a trial by fire, then. Jaebum suddenly feels like he wants to punch something. A wall, a face, he’s not picky.

“Of course he’ll go,” Jinyoung says, appearing suddenly and placing a heavy hand on Jaebum’s shoulder. His look is significantly pointed, and Jaebum can see Mark, just behind Jinyoung, nod subtly. Jaebum sighs.

“I guess one or two drinks couldn’t hurt.”

Jackson cheers, bouncing in place, before heading off to the locker room with his teammates to wash up and change. Jaebum promises to wait for him. What he wants to do is follow Jackson in there and stand guard against any shenanigans that may ensue, but he settles for shooting Mark a miserable look instead.

“I know,” Mark groans, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But think of it this way, at least with you there, hopefully no one will grope him. Do you remember the rules?”

“Don’t let him have alcohol, and don’t talk shit about the fencing assholes, even though they deserve it,” Jaebum recites, clenching and unclenching his fists. The desire to hit something hasn’t left him yet.

“More or less,” Mark agrees with a humorless laugh and a fortifying slap to Jaebum’s back. The rest of the boys exchange farewells with Jaebum and give him words of encouragement , and the group departs shortly en masse. With the crowd rapidly thinning out and without his friends around to distract him, Jaebum takes to pacing to calm his anxious mind. He’s just completed his thirty-seventh circuit and is contemplating bursting into the locker room anyways, propriety be damned, when Jackson returns, freshly scrubbed and followed by the whole throng of rowdy fencers. Jaebum does his best to return the smile Jackson gives him as he links their hands together. Several of Jackson’s teammates stare curiously at their joined hands, and Jaebum steels himself for a long night.

They make it to the bar without incident. Regardless of the teasing nicknames and barbed comments aimed at him, Jackson seems to be having a great time. Jaebum consoles himself with that information, because every time someone says the words “honey thighs,” he feels the skin on his knuckles tighten and he has to remind himself that Jackson likes these people and he probably wouldn’t like it if Jaebum punched any of them.

Once they’re settled in at the bar, Jaebum realizes that the only way he’s going to make it through the evening is with a lot of alcohol. He powers through almost an entire bottle of soju without speaking, ignoring Jackson’s concerned glances and focusing instead on the way Jackson’s hand rests possessively on Jaebum’s thigh under the table.

“Hey, Honey Thighs! Pass the wings!” Someone shouts from the other end of the long table. Jackson flushes slightly but removes his hand from Jaebum’s leg and reaches for the basket of chicken wings in front of him. Jaebum, emboldened by the alcohol, grabs Jackson’s arm, preventing him from reaching the basket. Jackson looks back at him, confused.

“Don’t call him that,” Jaebum nearly growls. Jackson’s hand still hangs in midair, even though Jaebum has released it. The entire table falls quiet.

“Oh, it speaks!” the offender exclaims, leaning forward on the table and leveling Jaebum with a taunting look. “What did you say?”

“I said, don’t call him that,” Jaebum repeats, louder this time. He matches the gaze of the speaker with one of his own, hoping he’s accurately conveying the rage that’s bubbling just under the surface of his skin. Jackson slowly withdraws his hand, looking anxious. “It’s a gross nickname, and he hates it. Stop calling him that.”

“Is that true, Jackson?” someone else asks, looking incredulous. “Do you really hate your nickname?”

“No!” Jackson assures quickly, but without conviction. “I mean, there are worse nicknames, right?”

“See? He likes it,” the original speaker says with a gloating grin. Jaebum says nothing, choosing instead to pour himself another shot because clearly he’s not drunk enough if he’s still contemplating how quickly he could get to the other side of the table and knock out a few of that guy’s teeth. Jackson meekly passes the wings down the table, and the previous volume of the group gradually resumes. Jackson’s leg has started jiggling up and down, though, and he keeps looking over at Jaebum, as though he’s worried Jaebum will snap at any moment. Jaebum thinks he just might.

“What’s wrong, Honey Thighs?” someone on the other side of Jackson asks, snaking a hand around Jackson’s waist. The guy is clearly just as intoxicated as Jaebum, if not more, because he leans heavily against Jackson, his hand slipping lower until it’s resting on Jackson’s ass. Jaebum is just trying to remember how to breathe normally when the guy pinches Jackson hard, and Jackson jumps a few centimeters in the air, spilling the glass of water that was in his hand all over the table.

Jaebum has had enough. He stands, grabbing the offender by the wrist and hauling him out of his chair. The guy’s face is shocked as Jaebum pulls him to his feet, and it becomes even more so after Jaebum cocks back a fist and punches him in the face. The man falls back on his ass, holding a hand to his nose. When he takes his hand away, his fingers and his face are stained with blood. His shock quickly turns to rage, as the shouts of more than a dozen fencers erupt all around them.

Before the guy Jaebum punched can lunge at him, Jackson steps in front of him and grabs him firmly by the arms, simultaneously shielding him from the rest of the team and pushing him out of the restaurant. Once outside, he shoves Jaebum away and throws his coat at him. Jaebum hadn’t even noticed Jackson grab his coat. He notices now that Jackson didn’t bring his own coat. It seems significant that he left it in the restaurant. His expression is furious.

“What the _hell_ was that?”

“He hurt you,” Jaebum says, fumbling with his coat. He manages to get it on, despite the way everything is spinning slightly. When he looks at Jackson again, Jackson is rolling his eyes.

“So?” Jackson is definitely mad. Jaebum doesn’t know why. He did the right thing; he protected Jackson’s honor. “It’s not the first time someone has pinched my ass, Jaebum, and it won’t be the last.”

“Do they leave marks?” Jaebum asks, approaching Jackson like moth drawn to a flame because _fuck_ he’s gorgeous even when he’s mad, even when he’s looking at Jaebum like he’s a bug under his shoe. “Do you have bruises from those assholes?”

“Don’t call them assholes,” Jackson snaps.

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Jaebum says, shrugging. He vaguely remembers that Mark told him something, something he shouldn’t do… he can’t remember it now and he’s mad as hell so fuck it. “What else would I call someone who harrasses their friend? Douchebag? Bastard? Take your pick.”

“You are unbelieveable,” Jackson scoffs, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Jaebum still has the presence of mind to notice that Jackson is cold, so he gets closer, trying to hold him and keep the cold away. Jackson keeps backing away from him, though, until his back is against the brick wall of the restaurant and Jaebum is up in his face, so close they’re sharing the same air. Jackson doesn’t seem to appreciate the closeness. “You’re not normally such a dick when you’re drunk. Why are you being like this?”

“Because,” Jaebum says, putting his arm on the wall next to Jackson’s head because he’s a little dizzy. Jackson inhales sharply. Jaebum uses his other hand to grab a fistful of Jackson’s sweatshirt as he tries to think of what he wanted to say. Unfortunately the alcohol is making his judgment even more cloudy, and Jackson is right there, centimeters away, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, and the words just evaporate out of his head. “Because…”

And then he’s kissing Jackson, and even though the soju dulled his senses, it’s still the best thing that he’s ever felt in his life. Jackson’s lips are so soft, and the way his breath hitches slightly against Jaebum’s mouth is more intoxicating than any liquor, and all Jaebum wants to do is hold him against this wall for hours and kiss until they can’t tell whose mouth is whose, but it doesn’t last. All too quickly, Jackson is pushing his arm between their bodies, using it against Jaebum’s chest to shove him away. Jaebum stumbles backward, barely managing not to trip and end up splayed on his ass.

“You don’t get to punch my friends and call them assholes and then kiss me like nothing happened,” Jackson says, and his voice is shaky. Jaebum laughs, even though he knows it’s the wrong thing to do, because it’s better than screaming, like he wants to.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jaebum mutters. Everything is a little sharper after the kiss, like Jackson sobered him up somehow, but it just brings that anger right back to the surface, stronger than before. “Do you really still think they’re your friends? Are you stupid or something?”

Jackson looks like Jaebum slapped him across the face. His eyes are too shiny.

“Why would you say that to me?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that.” Jaebum tries to approach him again, because Jackson is about to cry, and _he_ did that, that’s _his_ fault, and none of this is going the way he planned. Jackson backs away as Jaebum approaches.

“Don’t,” Jackson says, holding a hand out, so Jaebum stops. Jackson bites at his lip for a minute, and Jaebum watches as he rubs viciously at his eyes. When he speaks again, he doesn’t meet Jaebum’s gaze. “You should go.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Jaebum insists, using every ounce of self-control he has left to keep from just throwing Jackson over his shoulder and leaving those assholes behind.

“I have to go do damage control in there,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “And you have to sober up. Go home. I’ll talk to you later.”

And then Jackson is slipping back inside the restaurant, and there’s nothing Jaebum can do about it. He pounds his fist against the wall and shouts his frustration, which gets him nothing but the restaurant owner coming out and telling him that if he doesn’t leave, they’ll be calling the police. Jaebum leaves, and doesn’t look back.

 

//

 

When Jaebum wakes up with a splitting headache the next day, his first thought is of Jackson. He feels around for his phone but finds nothing, only noting the way the knuckles of his left hand ache with every movement. He sits up and looks around, noticing Jinyoung seated at the desk, apparently studying again.

“Where’s my phone?” Jaebum grumbles.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung says, not looking up from his books. “Check your coat pockets.”

Jaebum gets up, groaning in pain. He’s queasy, and his head is killing him, but not as much as his conscience, which gnaws at him as he slowly regains consciousness and remembers what happened the night before. Jackson has surely left him a thousand angry messages. He needs to read them and formulate an apology as soon as possible. Everything with Jackson is time sensitive, Jaebum has learned.

Jaebum locates his phone, not in his coat pocket, but in the pocket of his jeans that he left on the ground. He vaguely remembers kicking out of them and falling into his bed the night before. The phone is dead, so he plugs it into the charger and decides to take a shower while it gets enough charge to be functional.

As he showers, he tries not to think too much about all the dumb shit he did, but it’s difficult, especially as he examines the mottled purple and red skin of his sore hand. Did he really punch a guy for touching Jackson’s ass? Did he really shove Jackson against a wall and kiss him against his will? Did he really almost get _arrested?_ When did his life turn into a poorly written drama?

By the time he’s done showering, Jaebum is ready to grovel. He turns his phone on, but there are no missed calls, no messages. Jaebum refreshes his messages a few times, thinking maybe it’s their shoddy internet connection, but there’s nothing. He calls Jackson, but the call goes straight to voicemail.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Jinyoung says offhandedly.

“What?” Jaebum turns to him, surprised that Jinyoung has had contact with Jackson since the previous night.

“He doesn’t want to talk,” Jinyoung repeats, looking up with a judgmental expression. “Whatever you did last night, you really fucked up. He told Mark to tell me to tell you not to try talking to him.”

Jaebum digests that information for a moment, clenching his phone in his hand. Jackson won’t even _talk_ to him? Then how the hell is he supposed to apologize? This whole thing is just a big misunderstanding. He was just trying to protect Jackson from those douchebags, and now suddenly everything is _his_ fault? The unfairness of it makes something hot bubble up in Jaebum’s head, until he’s seeing red. He throws his phone against the wall, shouting his frustration.

“Wow, tell us how you really feel,” Jinyoung clucks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He crosses one leg over the other and leans back, completely unperturbed by Jaebum’s outburst. “So what did you do?”

“Those assholes wouldn’t stop touching him, so I punched one of them,” Jaebum says, breathing heavily as he retrieves his phone from the ground. The back popped off and the battery came out, but what’s most worrisome is the completely shattered screen. He pieces the phone back together with shaking fingers and holds the power button, praying that the damn thing still works at least, or else how will he know if Jackson is trying to call him? After a tense moment, the screen flickers to life. Jaebum collapses onto the couch with a sigh.

“Oh, that’s really bad,” Jinyoung says, biting his lip. “Jackson hates violence.”

“I know.”

“And he loves his teammates,” Jinyoung adds.

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Jaebum says through gritted teeth.

“Whatever happened to confessing? You were so excited.”

“I did kiss him,” Jaebum mumbles, flushing. He tactfully leaves out the part about--

“Wait, _when_ did you kiss him?” Jinyoung asks, eyes wide. “Before or after the punching?”

Jaebum hangs his head. Damn Jinyoung and his perceptiveness.

“Wait,” Jinyoung says, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You’re telling me that you punched one of his close friends and _then_ kissed him? Did you say anything at all, or just grab him and go to town?”

“I think my intentions were perfectly clear--”

“Oh my god, you’re the _worst,_ you know that?” Jinyoung says, one hand over his mouth to cover up his laughter. Jaebum sets his phone aside on the couch, just in case the desire to break something overtakes him again. He clenches his fists and waits for Jinyoung to stop laughing, because he’s mad but he’s never hit one of his friends, and he isn’t planning on starting now, even if Jinyoung deserves it a little. When Jinyoung finally calms down, he looks at Jaebum and shakes his head sadly. “It must be killing you. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” Jaebum says. He’s hopeless, and he knows it, because he’s still ridiculously in love with the guy, and the fact that Jackson won’t even hear him out is going to drive him crazy in very short order. “Maybe I’ll go over there, and--”

“Mark already told me that he’s not allowed to let you in,” Jinyoung interrupts. Jaebum goes back to pulling at his hair, and does his best not to scream.

Jaebum spends the rest of the day fidgeting anxiously around the apartment, much to Jinyoung’s displeasure. He rotates between checking his phone obsessively, trying to distract himself with his laptop, and pacing the floor like a caged animal. Eventually Jinyoung gives up studying and takes Jaebum out to dinner, calling Youngjae to meet up with them and waving away their offers to pay, even though Jaebum knows Jinyoung barely made the rent last month. His friends’ compassion clears Jaebum’s head a little, and even though Jackson is always at the back of his mind, he relaxes for the first time in twenty-four hours.

That night, he lies in bed with his phone clutched in his non-injured hand, staring at the shattered screen and praying that it lights up with a call from “J-Flawless.” It never does, and Jaebum falls into a restless sleep.


	6. Prove It

Jaebum is unable to concentrate throughout his Monday morning classes. He’s waiting for lunchtime, which Jackson has never missed since they started eating together. At least he’ll get to _see_ Jackson, which is more than he’s had in the last day and a half. Going from having almost constant contact to being completely ignored is doing unhealthy things to Jaebum’s sanity.

When class is dismissed, he practically runs to the cafeteria, arriving before anyone else in their group. He doesn’t even pay attention to the dishes he puts on his tray, grabbing whatever’s closest while keeping his head up, snapping around at the slightest provocation. Jackson will show. He _will,_ Jaebum knows it, and then Jaebum can talk some sense into him and they’ll agree that this was all a stupid misunderstanding and they can go back to... whatever they were before.

After taking a seat at their usual table, Jaebum plays with his food to pretend he’s eating. He managed to grab at least three things that he hates, but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t have an appetite anyways. Eventually Jinyoung and Mark show up, looking anxious, followed shortly by Youngjae. They watch him silently as Jaebum pushes his food around on his plate until it’s an inedible mess. Eventually he gives up pretending to care about his food and resorts to clenching his hands rhythmically on the table.

“Did he say anything about skipping lunch today?” Jaebum finally blurts out, looking at Mark. Mark shrugs, looking spooked at the sudden attention. “He really shouldn’t skip lunch. Where else would he eat? It’s not like he knows how to cook--”

And then Jaebum sees him, standing in line for the registers. He’s got a hood pulled over his snapback, like he’s hiding from something ( _or someone,_ Jaebum’s conscience viciously points out), but Jaebum would recognize those shoulders anywhere. Shoulders that are slumped pitifully, like he’s tired or sad or both, but still. They’re Jackson’s shoulders, and that’s all that matters. Jaebum stands up to get a better look, but Jinyoung grabs him by the arm and yanks him back down.

“Stop, you’ll freak him out,” Jinyoung warns. Jaebum shakes Jinyoung’s hands off but stays seated. He watches Jackson pay for his food. Apart from the droop of his shoulders, he almost looks normal, and Jaebum feels hope and nerves and _want_ ballooning up in his chest, making him feel like he’s going to burst.

Jackson finishes paying and takes his tray, finally turning to face the cafeteria. His eyes scan the room until they land on Jaebum, and he freezes. Jaebum begins to wish that he wasn’t watching, as Jackson’s face seems to lose some of its color. He chews his lower lip, and Jaebum stands up anyways, despite Jinyoung’s death grip on his arm.

“Jacks--” Jaebum half-calls, but the name dies in his throat as Jackson ducks his head and walks away. He takes a seat with a group of people Jaebum has never seen before. The people recognize Jackson, though, and greet him with warm smiles. Jaebum steps away from their table, because this has gone on long enough, and fuck patience and fuck sensibility, he wants to talk to Jackson _now_ and he’s going to do it, dammit.

“Will you stop being so impulsive and think for like ten seconds?” Jinyoung mutters, gluing himself to Jaebum’s arm. Mark and Youngjae jump up to help, Youngjae bodily holding Jaebum back and Mark simply standing in Jaebum’s way, his presence warning enough. Jinyoung yanks again at Jaebum’s arm. “Do you really think he wants to be confronted in front of all these people? Sit _down.”_

Jaebum sits, because the ever-shrinking rational side of his brain knows it’s a good idea. The rapidly expanding instinctual side of his brain is looking for openings to make a run for it. He can definitely outrun Jinyoung and Youngjae, but Mark might be a problem. He’ll have to incapacitate Mark first, and then--

“He doesn’t want to talk to you yet,” Jinyoung says lowly. Jaebum doesn’t look at him, but he can feel Jinyoung’s critical stare. He always hated that stare. “You can’t force him to forgive you, and if you try anything now, you’ll just make it worse.”

“He hates being confronted,” Mark adds. “Don’t push him.”

“He’ll come around, hyung,” Youngjae says softly from across the table, his face full of pity that makes Jaebum’s stomach roil. “You just have to give him time.”

Jaebum’s will crumbles. He shoves his tray away from him, using the space he created on the table to fold his arms and pillow his face in them so no one can see the way his eyes are getting kind of damp. Jinyoung rubs his back, and Jaebum wishes the cafeteria served alcohol.

 

//

 

Lunch on Tuesday goes much the same as Monday, and on Wednesday Jaebum decides that lunch is overrated anyways, and skips it in favor of sitting in a cubicle in the library and rereading his tax law textbook. It’s painfully boring, but far less painful than watching Jackson see him and deliberately ignore him again.

Jinyoung was right, anyways; Jaebum doesn’t even know what he would say to Jackson. He’d probably just fuck it all up, because he still doesn’t think he was wrong. He can’t figure out why Jackson would defend those losers, especially when they were clearly insulting him and overstepping his boundaries. He folds and unfolds a corner of one of his pages as he thinks, creasing it again and again until it rips off. Why does nothing ever go his way? What cosmic entity did he deeply offend to have such terrible luck? He’s not a bad person. He doesn’t deserve this heartache.

“Are you hiding?” A familiar voice startles Jaebum out of his pity party, and he looks up to see Jinyoung approaching him with a judgmental look.

“No,” Jaebum says, hating the hint of a pout in his voice. Jinyoung just shakes his head and pulls up a chair from the next cubicle over. He looks at Jaebum expectantly, and Jaebum sighs. “Maybe.”

“You just get more pathetic by the day, don’t you?” Jinyoung hums sympathetically, digging a hand into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He spends a few moments flipping through it, seemingly ignoring Jaebum.

“Did you come here just to insult me? Because you’re doing a marvellous job.”

“No,” Jinyoung says, not looking up from his phone. “I came to cheer you up.”

Jaebum wishes Jinyoung would look up so he could see the masterpiece of a sardonic expression Jaebum is modeling. “It’s not working.”

“Patience is a virtue, hyung,” Jinyoung sing-songs, finally stopping in his endless scrolling to pass his phone to Jaebum. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Jaebum asks, taking the phone. On the screen is a photo of Jaebum and Jackson, that Jaebum immediately recognizes as being from the night before the fencing tournament. They’re on the couch in Mark and Jackson’s apartment. Jaebum’s arm is slung around Jackson’s shoulders, and Jackson’s hand is gripping Jaebum’s thigh. Both of them are laughing with mouths wide open, completely oblivious that they’re being photographed.

“Evidence,” Jinyoung says simply. He motions at the phone. “Keep going, there’s more.”

Jaebum swipes, and the next picture is from the same night, but in this one, Jackson is leaning forward, clapping his hands and laughing, and Jaebum is staring at the side of Jackson’s face with a lovesick expression. He flips to the next photo. This time Jaebum is looking off to the side, clearly talking to someone just out of the shot, and Jackson is looking at him, wearing an expression not dissimilar to the one Jaebum had been sporting previously. Jaebum’s chest feels tight. He looks up at Jinyoung, confused.

“I have a lot of evidence,” Jinyoung says with a shrug. Jaebum keeps swiping. There are dozens of photos, going back months, all of Jaebum and Jackson together. There are photos of just the two of them laughing, photos of them looking at each other with intense expressions, photos of them sleeping against or on top of each other, photos of them feeding each other and holding hands and talking with heads bent together. “I started taking pictures back when you two first started hanging out to send to Youngjae, who is very invested in your relationship, by the way. Youngjae started taking pictures too, and then I got Mark in on the project, and then Bambam and Yugyeom, and now here we are. Three-hundred and twenty-six photos of you and Jackson being completely _gone_ for each other. It’s kind of gross actually.”

Jaebum finally reaches the end. The last picture is from the night of their first “date,” on the roof of Jackson’s apartment building. The flash from Jinyoung’s phone shows Jackson’s sleeping face, pillowed against Jaebum’s chest, and Jaebum’s startled expression, glaring at the photographer. Jaebum hadn’t noticed it at the time, but now looking at the picture he can clearly see how his hands clutched possessively at Jackson’s sides. Even back then, he was whipped--just two days after they met. He’s suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of having wasted precious time. He feels a lump developing in his throat.

“This doesn’t make me feel better,” Jaebum grits out, passing the phone back. Jinyoung looks at him with a pitying expression.

“It should. Didn’t you see the way you look at him? The way he looks at you? It’s been months of this, hyung. And yet you wondered how we all knew about it before you did. It’s plain as day.”

“Then why won’t he talk to me?” Jaebum chokes, clenching his hands in his lap. He’s started jiggling his leg up and down, which is something he never did before he met Jackson. He wonders just how many parts of himself Jackson installed, because he feels like a completely different person than he was four months ago. A better person, in some ways, but a more pathetic person in others. Jackson reeled him in, made him feel things he never felt before, made him addicted to the sound of his laugh and the feeling of holding his hand and the smell of his shampoo. And now he’s ignoring Jaebum, and Jaebum is beginning to feel like an addict itching for a hit.

Jinyoung sighs. “I don’t know. He’s probably still mad. But it won’t last forever; you two can’t stay apart for long, I know that. You’re like magnets.”

Jaebum is quiet for a while, working hard on keeping the dampness in his eyes from spilling out down his cheeks. After he collects himself, he turns back to face Jinyoung, who’s watching him with a soft expression. The vulnerability of the moment gives him courage to ask something that’s been on his mind for a while.

“Are you in love with Mark?”

“Yes,” Jinyoung says instantly, without even blinking. His conviction surprises Jaebum, who takes a moment to develop his next question.

“What would you do, if you were me?”

“I don’t know, hyung,” Jinyoung says with a sad shake of his head. “You could start with apologizing.”

“I did that already,” Jaebum insists. There may or may not be a hint of whine in his voice.

“When? I don’t recall ever hearing about an apology,” Jinyoung says.

Jaebum thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t remember, but I’m sure I did at some point.”

“That’s really not how it works,” Jinyoung says, pinching the bridge of his nose as though Jaebum is giving him a headache.

“Why should I apologize anyways? I wasn’t wrong.”

“Sometimes when you love someone it doesn’t matter who’s right and who’s wrong. You just have to swallow your pride and apologize.”

“Fine, but how can I even do that? He won’t listen to me.”

“Maybe you could write him a letter?” Jinyoung guesses. “I could give it to Mark to give to him.” Jaebum nods slowly, already thinking of things he wants to say. Jinyoung suddenly looks wary. “On second thought, maybe don’t do that.”

“What? Why?” Jaebum is starting to think that he should’ve asked just about anyone else for advice. Youngjae wouldn’t be this fickle.

“I have this weird feeling that if you wrote a letter right now it would just turn into a rant about how shitty his friends are,” Jinyoung says, squinting his eyes in suspicion. Jaebum looks away, unwilling to admit that that’s exactly what his letter would be about. The phrase _you deserve better_ was already featuring prominently in his mind. Jinyoung shakes his head. “You know what, forget I said anything.”

After Jinyoung leaves, promising to send Jaebum his entire photo collection, all three hundred and twenty-six of them, Jaebum writes a letter anyways. He writes seven letters, actually, ripping up and throwing away one after another because none of them are good enough. The first one is tentative, the second accusatory, the third apologetic, and so on, until the last one is just straight-up begging Jackson to take him back. It’s only after he viciously shreds the last one that he realizes he completely missed his afternoon class.

That’s also when Jaebum realizes that he’s a total mess, and that he has no idea how to fix it.

 

//

 

A week passes with no word from Jackson, and Jaebum finds himself growing bitter at the whole situation. Jaebum had been so nice to Jackson, and Jackson just rejected him like he didn’t even matter. One broken nose and suddenly he’s the worst guy in the world. How is that fair? He deserves better than the silent treatment after all the time they spent together, after all the meals and sleepovers and deep conversations.

Much to Jaebum’s displeasure, as his relationship with Jackson steadily evaporates, Mark and Jinyoung’s grows stronger. They are almost always together, to the point that Youngjae starts jokingly referring to them as a single unit: “MarkJin.” They’re always touching somehow, like they don’t even realize they’re doing it; shoulders leaned together, hands entangled, knees knocking under the table. They also spend a significant amount of time just staring deeply into each other’s eyes, like they don’t even need to talk to communicate. Jaebum wishes Jackson was around just so he could have someone with which to lament over how sickeningly cute they are, because Youngjae mostly prefers to pretend it isn’t happening right in front of him.

Mark and Jinyoung have also taken to spending most of their nights together, either at Mark and Jackson’s place (Jaebum has no idea where Jackson sleeps--the couch?) or at Jinyoung and Jaebum’s tiny studio. On those nights, Jinyoung pouts until Jaebum leaves and crashes on the floor of Youngjae’s dorm room. When Jaebum finally complains about consistently being kicked out so Jinyoung can get laid, Jinyoung absentmindedly comments that when Jackson and Jaebum were still friends, he never had to kick Jaebum out, because Jaebum was already sleeping over at Jackson’s. Jaebum takes a deep, cleansing breath and punches their mirror, shattering it into hundreds of tiny plastic shards. Jinyoung doesn’t mention it again, and Jaebum thinks the cuts on his knuckles are worth it for that alone.

As finals approach, Jaebum moves from anger into bargaining. Maybe they could go back to just being friends. Maybe he doesn’t need to be Jackson’s boyfriend. Maybe he can pretend he’s not desperately, painfully in love. He could do it, for Jackson. He would do it, if it meant the constant achy feeling in his chest would go away. If it meant he got to see that thousand-watt smile again.

The last week of the semester passes in such a blur of studying that Jaebum barely has time to miss Jackson (at least, that’s what he tells himself). He studies so much that he does the best he’s ever done on his exams, much to his parents’ delight. He reflects that pain and crushing loneliness have been great for his GPA. Happiness is overrated, anyways.

The day after his last exam, Jaebum lies around in his sweatpants, eating cup after cup of instant ramen and binge-watching the drama that made Jinyoung cry at nearly every episode. Jaebum’s eyes stay dry, but the plot seems to exacerbate the hollow feeling in his chest, and he takes a sick kind of pleasure in it, so he keeps watching. It’s started snowing outside, and Jaebum actually gets up off of the couch to pull the curtains shut. He’s been daydreaming about going on cute winter dates with Jackson, and he’s bitter that other couples get to hold mitten-clad hands and wrap scarves around each other’s necks and kiss as snowflakes flutter around them and he can’t.

He’s on the second to last episode of the drama when his phone rings with a call from Jinyoung. He ignores it. Jinyoung is probably calling to ask him to find a place to stay so Mark can spend the night, and Jaebum is really not in the mood to sleep on Youngjae’s smelly, stained dorm carpet again. The phone rings again, and he declines it again. On the third call, Jaebum picks up, ready to rip Jinyoung a new one.

“I’m not finding a place to stay tonight. You and Mark can fuck out in the snow for all I care, I’m not giving up my bed again.”

“God, will you shut up for five seconds so I can talk?” Jinyoung sounds exasperated. “I’m not kicking you out. I’m at Mark’s, studying for my biology final tomorrow, because, FYI, just because you’re done for the semester doesn’t mean all of us are, and I forgot my notebook.” Sure enough, Jinyoung’s biology notebook is sitting on the desk. “Can you bring it over?”

“Why can’t you come get it?” Jaebum grumbles.

“We already started working and I’ll just waste time by walking back and forth.”

“So you want to waste my time instead?”

“Come on hyung, please?” Jinyoung whines. “I know you’re just sitting around moping, and there’s beer here if you want it. I’ll be studying all night anyways, so you can have the place to yourself tonight.”

“How much beer?” Getting wasted in an empty apartment sounds kind of nice.

“A six pack.”

Jaebum heaves a deep sigh, to reinforce to Jinyoung that he’s being greatly inconvenienced. “Fine, I’ll bring it.”

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jaebum doesn’t bother changing out of his sweatpants. He just throws on a pair of boots and a coat, tucks Jinyoung’s notebook under his arm, and leaves. The snow is coming down in big, thick flakes, enough that his coat is covered within minutes of walking. It’s not windy, though, just kind of peaceful, and Jaebum lets himself daydream again as he trudges through the empty streets.

Jackson probably looks gorgeous in the snow. Well, he looks gorgeous all the time, but he would look especially so under the light of a street lamp, with flakes dusting his hair, the dim light making his skin glow and his eyes twinkle. Jaebum would be that cheesy guy that says his lips are cold, and he needs help warming them up, and Jackson would laugh and smack his chest and oblige, warm breath gusting against Jaebum’s lips in a way that would give him chills, and not just from the cold.

When he reaches the apartment building, a little colder and a lot sadder, he calls Jinyoung from the street below.

“Come and get it. Don’t forget the beer.”

“Just come up, I don’t want to put my boots back on.”

“You are so lazy.”

“Please? Jackson’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jaebum hangs up. That was exactly what he was worried about. Stupid Jinyoung, knowing Jaebum’s every thought. He heads into the lobby, rings the bell, and opens the door when the buzzer sounds. When he reaches number twenty-two, the door is unlocked, as always (don’t they ever worry about theft?), so Jaebum enters without knocking. At first glance, the apartment seems empty.

“Jinyoung?”

“We’re in here!” Jinyoung’s voice calls from the bedroom. Jaebum sighs and toes out of his boots, realizing he vastly underestimated Jinyoung’s laziness.

“If this is your attempt to get me into a threesome with you and Mark, it’s not working,” Jaebum mutters as he enters the bedroom. Jinyoung is seated on the edge of the bed, next to a lump covered by a blanket, whom Jaebum assumes is Mark. Why would Mark be sleeping, though, if they’re supposed to be studying? Before Jaebum can figure out what’s going on, Jinyoung sprints past him, yanking the notebook out of his hands as he goes. Once Jinyoung is clear of the door, Jaebum sees Mark slam it shut. Wait, but if Mark is out there, that means…

“Can you guys be quieter?” the lump grumbles. Jaebum’s breath catches in his throat. That lump is definitely not Mark.

“Jinyoung? What’s going on?” Jaebum calls through the door, feeling slightly panicked.

“This is for your own good, hyung,” Jinyoung calls. “You two need to work things out once and for all. You’re both miserable, and we’re sick of it.”

Jaebum just stands there, watching in semi-horror as the lump begins to move, flipping the covers back. Jackson’s sleep-addled face peeks out. He sees Jaebum, rolls his eyes, and pulls the blanket back over his head. Jaebum pounds his fist pathetically on the door.

“You promised me beer.”

“It’s on the nightstand.”

Sure enough, a six pack is sitting on the table next to the bed. Jaebum sighs, embarrassed at himself that he’s so relieved. He trudges over and pulls a can out of its plastic ring, cracking it open and chugging it almost desperately.

“Looks like I’m still driving you to drink. Fantastic,” the lump also known as Jackson mumbles. Jaebum turns to see him watching him from the bed, where he holds the blanket wrapped around his neck like a hood. It’s the closest they’ve been in two weeks, and Jaebum takes a moment to soak in the sight of him. Jackson looks unwell. He has deep purple bags under his eyes, so dark they almost look like bruises, and his face seems thinner, like he hasn’t been eating well. His eyes are bloodshot, too, and as they stare up at Jaebum they seem oddly vacant, like Jackson is intentionally distancing himself. It makes Jaebum feel sick.

“We can’t all get drunk on life,” Jaebum says quietly. It sounds a lot more bitter than he intended. He grabs the pack of beer and leans his back against the wall opposite Jackson, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. Jackson levers himself up into a sitting position, keeping the blanket wrapped around his neck and watching Jaebum warily. Jaebum reflects that he should have told Jinyoung to fuck himself when he called. Hindsight is 20/20, after all.

“You look tired,” Jackson observes. His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it in a while. Jaebum tries not to laugh at the hypocrisy.

“I could say the same about you. Why are you sleeping at seven o’clock at night?” Jaebum asks over the rim of his beer can. Jackson looks down, almost guiltily.

“Can we get this over with, please? I want to go back to sleep,” Jackson mutters, picking at a frayed edge of the blanket.

“I think I should have another drink first,” Jaebum says, fingering the plastic ring from which he removed his beer. “I don’t know if I can handle this sober.”

“Fine,” Jackson says. “Let me know when you’re drunk enough to have an honest conversation.”

The words sting. Jaebum washes away the feeling with another gulp of beer. They sit in silence as Jaebum finishes his first can and steadily works his way through another. Just as he’s opening his third, Jackson clears his throat.

“Are you ready?” Jackson asks, pulling the blanket even tighter around his shoulders, like it’s the only thing that’s grounding him. Jaebum can relate, except that the thing that normally grounds him is two meters away, watching him with an unimpressed expression. His world spins along with his head, as the alcohol starts working.

“Ready for you to break my heart?” Jaebum wants to spit, but he doesn’t, because he still has some pride left, dammit. Instead, he nods.

“What were you thinking?” Jackson snaps, and the words have an angry bite to them that Jaebum has only heard once from Jackson. Jaebum meets Jackson’s suddenly sharp gaze as steadily as he can.

“They shouldn’t touch you like that,” Jaebum insists, noting the simmering anger in his own voice. He _is_ angry, and he has every right to be, because he let himself fall in love and this is what happened.

“That’s not something for you to decide,” Jackson says, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Maybe it should be.”

“What?” Jackson asks, confusion and irritation playing on his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Jaebum shrugs. “Maybe if I was in charge of your decisions, you’d get the respect you deserve.”

“You think breaking my friend’s nose is the best way of getting respect?” Jackson asks, incredulous.

“You can talk about talking all day long, but my way gets results.” Jaebum doesn’t know who is in charge of his speech, but it’s certainly not him. He should be apologizing, begging Jackson to take him back, anything but whatever bullshit he’s currently spewing. “My way gets results”? Where the fuck did that come from? He sounds like the arrogant main character in an action movie.

“Unbelieveable,” Jackson scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re as bad as the rest of them.”

“So you admit they’re bad,” Jaebum points out, knowing perfectly well he’s nitpicking and not giving a single solitary fuck about it.

“I can’t do this,” Jackson says, running a hand through his hair and pulling at the strands. His eyes are suddenly too shiny.

“What do you mean?” Jaebum asks, false bravado slowly but surely evaporating. Jackson’s not supposed to _cry._ He’s supposed to yell and get pissed and throw insults, and then Jaebum will actually apologize like he planned, and everything will be fine.

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” Jackson says, averting his eyes.

“What, as more-than-friends?” Jaebum asks. He expected this, but it still hurts.

“No, we should stop seeing each other, period.”

Jaebum’s world starts to fall apart, one piece at a time, because what even is his world without Jackson holding it all together? He can’t think of anything to say, other than _don’t, please, I’m sorry, stop, wait,_ but none of them make it out of his throat, which has ceased functioning, other than to swallow yet another gulp of beer. Jackson starts talking and doesn’t stop for a while, but Jaebum can’t focus on anything other than the loud ringing in his ears. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.

There’s a pause in Jackson’s monologue, and he looks at Jaebum expectantly.

“What do you want me to say?” Jaebum asks, trying to keep the wetness out of his voice.

“Anything,” Jackson pleads. Jaebum feels like he’s swallowed glue for all he’s able to talk. Jackson just nods sadly, like Jaebum confirmed something significant, and hangs his head, slumping impossibly further in defeat. “That’s what I thought.”

Jackson climbs off the bed, taking the blanket with him, and goes to the door. He knocks firmly, and calls through the wood.

“Mark, we’re done here, open the door please.”

The door opens almost instantly, and Jackson steps aside to let Jaebum through. Jaebum pushes himself up from his spot on the ground, but as soon as he’s wobbling on his feet, he hesitates.

“I don’t want to go,” Jaebum mumbles. The alcohol makes him sound exactly how he feels: pitiful and spent. Jackson’s face twitches, but he looks away, deliberately not making eye contact.

“Please leave.”

So Jaebum leaves, pausing only momentarily to grab what’s left of the beer. He ignores the pitying looks Mark and Jinyoung give him as he heads to the front door and steps into his boots.

“Hyung, wait,” Jinyoung says finally. Jaebum just shakes his head and opens the front door.

“He wants me to go. So I’m going.” And he does. By the time he gets down the stairs and out into the snow, he’s crying, and he doesn’t stop the whole way home.

 

//

 

A few days later, Jaebum’s phone ringing startles him awake in the middle of the night. Jinyoung is nowhere to be found, but he’s come to expect that. Ever since the mirror punching incident, Jinyoung hasn’t kicked him out, choosing to spend most of his nights at Mark’s apartment. Jaebum feels around blindly in the dark for his phone, pulling it close to his face to check the screen.

_J-Flawless is calling_

Jaebum answers it instantly, heart pounding.

“Jackson?”

“Oh thank god,” Jackson breathes into the receiver, causing some static. “I’m sorry for calling you, but Mark isn’t picking up.”

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum asks. There’s something different with Jackson’s voice, something Jaebum doesn’t like. It almost sounds like he’s crying.

“I’m at a party, and I--I feel funny,” Jackson says thickly.

“Funny how?” Jaebum is sitting up now, and his heart is pounding.

“Like drunk funny. Like someone put something in my drink funny,” Jackson says, and he’s definitely slurring his words.

“Were you drinking alcohol?”

“No, that’s what I’m trying to say! Would you just _listen_ \--hey, stop that!” There’s the sound of laughter in the background. “I said get _off!”_

“Jackson, where are you?” Jaebum asks, getting up and stumbling in the dark until he finds the light switch. He locates his shoes, worry increasing with the sounds of Jackson’s fast breathing into the speaker. “I’ll come get you, just tell me where you are.”

“Do you have a piece of paper?” Jackson asks, and the sounds of laughter are dying down, like Jackson is moving away from the source. “I’ll tell you the address.”

Jaebum gets a pen and writes the address on his hand as Jackson tells it to him. He’s slipping into his coat when Jackson whispers, _please, hurry,_ and hangs up.

Jaebum manages to find a taxi, even though it’s the middle of the night. After he gives the driver the address, he pulls out his phone again and contemplates calling Jackson back. No, there’s someone else he needs to call first.

“What the hell, hyung?” Jinyoung answers the phone with a groggy voice. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Pass the phone to Mark.”

Jinyoung must hear the urgency in Jaebum’s voice, because in seconds Mark’s voice comes over the line, equally groggy.

“Hello?”

“Why can’t Jackson have alcohol?” Jaebum asks, feeling his heart pound in his throat. Something is very, very wrong about this situation, and he needs to know all the facts before he arrives. “You said Jackson can’t have alcohol--why is that? Is he allergic to it or something?”

“Kind of,” Mark mumbles, sounding more alert by the second. “He’s naturally a lightweight, but also something about the diet he’s on for fencing--low fat? Low carb? I don’t remember. Something about that makes it worse. He gets tipsy after one drink, and after two he’s a mess. He decided a long time ago that it was better just not to drink. Why? What’s going on?”

“He called me from a party, said someone put something in his drink. Do you know where he was going to be tonight?”

“Yeah, he was going to a graduation party for one of his teammates.” There are rustling sounds in the background, like Mark is getting out of bed. “Are you going to get him? I can--”

“I’m going, it’s fine. Maybe answer your phone next time, though. He said he’s been calling you.” Jaebum hangs up the phone, anger making his hands shake. Jinyoung will have his ass later for that, but he doesn’t even care, because the taxi is slowing to a stop at his destination.

After instructing the driver that he’ll be right back, Jaebum practically sprints up the front steps of the house, from which loud music is emanating. The door is unlocked (thank god), so Jaebum enters and takes stock of the situation.

There are people everywhere, holding plastic cups like in American college movies, dancing and talking and lounging around. The house is quite large; whoever is the host must have quite the bank account (or at least their parents do). Jaebum stops the first person he sees, a pretty girl chatting with a guy who’s leering at her from several centimeters above, despite her spiky heels.

“Have you seen Jackson? Jackson Wang?” Jaebum asks, but is met with a shrug from the girl and a glare from the guy. He moves through the crowd, shouting over the music, asking anyone who will listen to him _where’s Jackson, do you know him, have you seen him,_ all to no avail. It seems as though Jackson was never at this party at all. Jaebum gives up asking and decides to search the house himself.

He’s just made it to the kitchen of the house, and he’s standing tiptoe above the heads of the crowd, scanning for a snapback-clad head that looks familiar, when he spots another familiar face, and not the one he wanted. It’s the fencer he punched at the restaurant; Jaebum can tell by the yellowing bruise around his nose and the fury in his expression.

“Hey! No one invited you, asshole!” the fencer shouts, pushing through the throng to shove at Jaebum’s chest. Jaebum takes a step back, holding his hands up defensively. He’s not here to fight. Not until he finds Jackson, that is, and then he might be convinced to rearrange a few faces.

“I’m looking for Jackson,” Jaebum explains as calmly as he can, despite the rage bubbling under the surface of his skin. “Have you seen him?”

“I _have_ seen him,” the fencer grits out, with another shove to Jaebum’s chest. “I’ve seen him, sitting in a corner all night, moping over you. He’s trying to move on, dude. Let it go and get out of here.”

“I’m here because he called me,” Jaebum insists, pushing--okay, maybe shoving--the guy back out of his space. The guy stumbles back, bumping into someone behind him and making them spill their drink. “Where is he?”

Just as the guy is gearing up to come at Jaebum, a girl slips in and puts her arm across the guy’s chest, holding him back. She looks at Jaebum for a moment, assessing, while the guy seems to contemplate whether to remove the girl’s arm and get on with pounding Jaebum into the ground, like he seems to want to do.

“I saw him head to the bathroom,” the girl says finally. She nods her head to Jaebum’s right, back out of the kitchen. “He said he wasn’t feeling well.”

That’s all Jaebum needs to take off, ignoring the shouts of the fencer behind him and weaving through the partygoers in the direction the girl indicated. It doesn’t take him long to find the bathroom; it’s the only door down that hallway that’s locked. There’s a sliver of light coming out from under the doorway, though, so Jaebum knocks.

“Jackson? Are you in there?” Jaebum calls, hoping his voice carries through the door, over the loud music. “It’s me, it’s Jaebum.”

It’s quiet for a while, and Jaebum weighs the pros and cons of just kicking the door in--it’s pretty flimsy so he knows he could do it, but there’s the chance that Jackson is leaning against the door and could get hurt--when there’s a fumbling sound from the door handle, and door opens a crack.

“Get back,” Jaebum warns, before pushing the door open slowly. The bathroom is small, just a toilet and a sink, but so is Jackson. Jackson, who is sitting on the ground, leaning against the counter of the sink, looking like he can barely hold himself upright. Jaebum immediately falls to his knees, pulling Jackson against his chest. He uses one hand to hold Jackson’s face up; it’s flushed, and there are tear tracks running down his face from his closed, puffy eyes. “Jackson?”

“You came,” Jackson mumbles, sounding surprised. He cracks his eyes open, and as soon as he sees Jaebum, his face crumples. He leans his head against Jaebum’s chest, and Jaebum almost starts to cry himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d come, after I made you leave.”

“Of course I came,” Jaebum coos, trying to gather as much of Jackson’s limp, sweaty body into his arms as possible. “What happened?”

“I think someone put alcohol in my drink,” Jackson says slowly, as though it’s taking him a lot of effort to form words. “They said I needed to cheer up.”

“You need new friends,” Jaebum mutters, wiping gently at the tear stains on Jackson’s cheeks. Jackson leans into the touch, nosing at Jaebum’s hand like a dog trying to be petted. Jaebum’s heart breaks a little.

“Maybe you’re right,” Jackson sighs, grabbing a fistful of Jaebum’s shirt in an attempt to steady himself. Jaebum wants to make Jackson repeat those words, preferably with some kind of voice recorder present, but there are more important things to consider now, like getting Jackson the fuck out of this house.

“Can you stand?” Jaebum asks, supporting Jackson under his shoulders. Jackson nods, and Jaebum helps him to his feet, but he only makes it a few steps before his legs give out on him and Jaebum decides just to carry him. He scoops Jackson up bridal style and pushes his way through the party, ignoring the stares of the people all around him. He sees the fencer again, approaching him with a determined look, clearly not done with Jaebum. Jaebum bites out a fierce _back off_ and the fencer decides against it.

Jaebum’s back is just about to give out by the time they reach the cab. He’s doing a lot better than he would have a few months ago, thanks to Jackson’s workout routine, but Jackson is still really heavy, and even more difficult to carry when he’s just flopping around like total dead weight. Somehow Jaebum manages to get Jackson into the cab, and directs the driver back to his apartment. At the first turn, Jackson leans heavily against Jaebum’s side. He looks up through puffy eyes, and intentionally leans in closer. Jaebum feels his pulse quicken.

“Jackson, what are you--”

“Shh,” Jackson hushes him, and then he’s gripping the front of Jaebum’s coat and pulling him in for a kiss. Against his better judgment, Jaebum lets himself be pulled, because he’s weak and he missed Jackson _so much._

Jackson’s lips are wet, and soft, but lax, like he can’t manage to move them very well. He places his mouth over Jaebum’s and leaves it there, making no effort to do anything else. Jaebum begins to feel uncomfortable. Jackson clearly doesn’t have the presence of mind to decide whether he actually wants to be kissing Jaebum, so Jaebum gently pushes him away. Jaebum only sees a second of the hurt on Jackson’s face before a sudden stop of the cab sends Jackson’s torso tumbling into Jaebum’s lap. He looks up at Jaebum with a miserable, broken expression. Jaebum can relate.

“If I called you hyung, would you love me more?” Jackson asks, although the words are slurred and quiet. Jaebum bites his lip, torn between being surprised at the question and being deeply wounded at its meaning. He shakes his head, not trusting his voice, which will probably be thick with emotion, and hopes his face conveys what he wants to say. _I already love you as much as I can. As much as any one person can love another._

“Thought not,” Jackson sighs, clearly not understanding what Jaebum had intended. He rubs his face against Jaebum’s stomach. “Oh well. I’ll take what I can get.”

Jaebum doesn’t know what to say to that. Everything he thinks of sounds trite and nothing close to good enough. He wants to tell Jackson the thousand different ways he loves him, how he misses him every minute of the day, how his world is cold and bleak without him, but it all gets stuck in his throat. He settles for carding his fingers through Jackson’s hair, while Jackson falls asleep in his lap.

When they get back to the apartment, Jaebum barely registers the ridiculous cost of the cab ride. He just passes over his credit card, thinking more about the best way to get Jackson upstairs into his apartment. His building doesn’t have an elevator. This could get tricky.

When Jaebum sets Jackson down at the first flight of stairs so he can stretch and psych himself up, Jackson starts crawling up the stairs, slowly but surely. He makes it up the first flight, at least, before collapsing and saying he can’t do anymore. Jaebum manages to carry him up the next flight, which leaves him winded but surprised at his own strength. He sets Jackson down in front of the door to his apartment so he can unlock it. Jackson looks up at him as he does this, seeming confused.

“Why are we here? I want to go home.”

“Because this is closer than your apartment,” Jaebum says. He wants to say, “Because I want to take care of you and I don’t trust Mark not to kick me out if I take you home,” but he doesn’t. Jackson probably wouldn’t understand in his state, anyways. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He manages to get Jackson laid out on his futon before Jackson starts groaning.

“I’m gonna puke.”

Jaebum just manages to dump out the little trash can under the desk and dash back to Jackson’s side before Jackson is vomiting. It’s violent vomiting too, the kind that makes his whole body heave with every retch. He’s shaking and pale by the end of it. Jaebum watches him for a moment as he lies back, to make sure he’s done, before going to the bathroom to clean out the trash can. He also gets a cool washcloth and a glass of water. By the time he gets back, Jackson curled up in a ball again, and he’s crying. Jaebum sets the trash can down and sits down next to Jackson. He pulls Jackson’s head into his lap and uses the washcloth to clean off his sweaty, tear stained face.

“I don’t understand you,” Jackson moans through his shivering sobs.

“What don’t you understand?” Jaebum asks, rubbing Jackson’s back.

“You’re so mean to me sometimes, but then you act all nice and I don’t know what to think.”

“When was I mean to you?” Jaebum asks, incredulous. His hand stills on Jackson’s back as he wracks his brain for times he was mean to Jackson. He can’t find any.

“You just push me away all the time,” Jackson says. “You ignore me, you won’t talk to me.”

“No, I don’t,” Jaebum insists. He’s never done that, not once. Maybe the alcohol is making Jackson delusional.

“Yes, you do,” Jackson says with a pathetic sniffle. His next words are quieter, like he doesn’t want Jaebum to hear. “I thought you were different, but you’re just like the rest of them.”

Before Jaebum can ask who “the rest of them” means, Jackson is dragging the trash can over and vomiting again. After that, he becomes too exhausted and intoxicated to talk anymore, only seeming alert when he sits up to vomit more. Nothing but saliva and bile are coming out anymore, but Jackson keeps retching for another half hour. After he’s stopped for a while, Jaebum forces him into a sitting position and makes him drink the glass of water, holding his head up while he pours the water down his throat. Jackson only chokes on it once, and he manages to keep it down and not throw it up again, so Jaebum considers it a success and lets Jackson sleep. He doesn’t bother to get Jinyoung’s futon out, instead crawling into his bed behind Jackson and pulling him close, like he’s dreamed about doing for so long. The moment is spoiled by the smell of vomit in the air and the way Jackson is still shivering and moaning occasionally, but he’ll take what he can get. It isn’t long before he’s drifting off to sleep, clutching Jackson close with his face nuzzled against Jackson’s sweaty neck.

When Jaebum wakes in the morning, Jackson is gone. The only signs he was ever there are the rumpled sheets and the trash can, scrubbed clean and left to dry on the floor of the bathroom. Jaebum cries himself back to sleep.

 

//

 

Jaebum spends most of the day in fitful sleep, hoping against hope that if he’s unconscious he won’t feel the ache in his chest that reminds him with every beat of his heart that Jackson is gone. The only thing that gets him out of his bed is a plan, a pathetic long-shot of an idea, but it’s all he’s got. He showers and dresses and heads outwide, walking the familiar route to Jackson’s place.

When he arrives at the apartment building and rings the buzzer, he prays that Mark will be the one who answers. His plan will only work if Jackson is in front of him, can see him face to face. He won’t make the mistake of getting drunk this time. He’s got a plan, and it all hinges on Mark letting him in before Jackson can turn him down.  
“Hello?” The crackly voice coming over the speaker is definitely Mark’s. Jaebum almost cries in relief.

“Mark? It’s Jaebum. Can I come up?”

The intercom is quiet for what feels like years.

“Sure.”

The door buzzes, and Jaebum enters. As he trudges up the stairs, he reviews his plan. It involves a lot of begging. Begging, and apologizing, and a little bit of lying straight through his teeth. So what if Jackson’s friends are assholes? Jaebum can handle it. He can smile through the rage at social events, and keep his mouth shut when Jackson raves about them, and avert his eyes when they converge on Jackson at tournaments. He can do it, and he will. If it means Jackson will be a part of his life again, he can do anything.

When he knocks on the door of apartment twenty-two, Mark opens it, looking as handsome as ever. Jaebum briefly wonders if he should’ve dated Mark instead. It probably would’ve ended better. Well, not for Jinyoung, but then maybe Jinyoung would have handled Jackson better, and they all would have been happier for it. The thought makes him feel sick, though, and he shakes the it of his head before it takes root.

“Jackson isn’t here,” Mark says, stepping aside to let Jaebum in. Jaebum tries not to feel like his world is collapsing around him.

“Where is he?” Jaebum asks, as Mark shuts the door. “I need to talk to him.”

“Because that went so well last time,” Mark mumbles, padding in sock feet to the couch, upon which he collapses with a sigh. He waves Jaebum over. “You may as well stay for a while. He won’t be back any time soon.”

Jaebum hesitates. On one hand, if there’s a chance Jackson will be coming back to the apartment before the day is over, it’s worth waiting. On the other, he’s still painfully awkward around Mark, and he doesn’t exactly feel like spending an entire afternoon in tense silence. Eventually, the slim chance of seeing Jackson again wins out, and he gives in and steps out of his shoes, heading over to sit on the couch where he and Jackson first met.

“I wish you two would get your heads out of your asses and just listen to each other,” Mark says, rubbing his face like he just woke up. When he lowers his hands, he looks at Jaebum critically. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Why does it matter to you?” Jaebum asks, picking at a cuticle in lieu of meeting Mark’s gaze.

“It matters because you’re my boyfriend’s best friend,” Mark says calmly, ignoring the way Jaebum huffs in response. “And also because you’re my best friend’s boyfriend, even if neither of you have figured that out yet.”

“Tell that to Jackson,” Jaebum says, laying the sarcasm on extra thick in the hope that it will shut Mark up. Mark just gives him a sad little smile.

“I will. But first, let’s talk.”

“Do we have to?” Jaebum definitely does not whine. “Can we just... sit quietly until Jackson gets back?”

“Yes, we have to,” Mark says. “Because I think you’re missing some vital information about Jackson, and I think it’s probably my fault.”

“Oh?” Jaebum asks, curiosity peaked, if only for the reason that something is finally Mark’s fault and not his own. Mark nods.

“I never told you about his history with the fencing team. I thought he would tell you himself, but I guess I was wrong.”

“What about it?” Jaebum scoffs. “I don’t really feel like listening to more detailed descriptions of how they harass him.”

“Just listen,” Mark says firmly, already losing patience at Jaebum’s reticence. Jaebum is a little bit pleased at Mark’s exasperation, because he’s nothing if not petty and bitter. “Jackson came here from Hong Kong on a fencing scholarship at eighteen, having had only a year of study in the language beforehand, and was expected to attend college classes _in a foreign language,_ as well as fence competitively.”

Jaebum nods; he knew all of this already. Jackson told him many hilarious stories of language mix-ups from his first year in Korea. He never talked about how hard it was, though, and Jaebum never asked. There are a lot of questions Jaebum is realizing he should have asked.

“We were roommates from the start, because of connections made through Yugyeom and Bambam, who had just started high school together. We had common languages and got along well, but I wasn’t much help when it came to his schoolwork or his fencing, because I had no experience with it. His fencing teammates in the year above knew what they were doing and they helped him out, a lot. He’s said more than once that if it weren’t for them, he would have quit and gone back home before the first semester was over.”

“So why would they--”

“Shh, I’m getting there,” Mark cuts him off. He takes a deep breath. “Because he was so inexperienced in the language, they kind of... babied him. He's so smart, but it kind of got lost in translation, and they fell into habits that were hard to break once he became more fluent. Even though he’s so good at fencing, better than a lot of them, they treated him as a mascot or something--giving him nicknames and pats on the ass and whatnot. He ate it up. You’ve seen how he is with attention. He lives for it.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum agrees, trying not to think too hard about Jackson’s hopeful, happy face whenever Jaebum plays along with him. Whenever Jaebum does anything with him, really. The achy throb of his heart in his chest is back.

“Jackson never put a stop to it, and over the years it just sort of got out of hand,” Mark continues. “You should know that he never once mentioned, not even to me, that he was uncomfortable with their behavior. You saw it right away, though, just like I did. He doesn’t like the attention anymore. I think he was holding out, keeping quiet until that whole group graduates, which happened last week, by the way. I think he didn’t realize how out of control it had gotten until you punched that guy.”

“Why are you telling me all this again?” Jaebum asks, feeling heartbroken at the thought of young Jackson, belittled by friends he looked up to and trusted, and the Jackson he knows now, being forced to choose between old friends who don’t treat him well and an unpredictable new friend. It would be a tough decision for anyone to make. He feels guilty for forcing Jackson to choose.

“I just wanted you to know that he doesn’t worship the ground they walk on,” Mark says. “He did once, but he doesn’t now. He’s been doing a lot of thinking lately, thanks to you.”

“So how long will it be until Jackson gets back?” Jaebum asks, feeling a little better after being armed with new information.

“Two weeks,” Mark says, smirking. “He went back to Hong Kong.”

 _“What?”_ Jaebum sputters. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“I didn’t think you’d stick around the hear the whole thing if I led with that,” Mark says with a shrug. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Jaebum admits begrudgingly. “But why did he go back? He never said anything about spending the break there before.”

“He hadn’t planned on it, initially, but he got word that his mom is sick,” Mark explains. “You know how he gets about his mom, and sickness in general. That was almost a week ago. He’s been waiting on standby for a flight to open up since then. I guess he got the call this morning.”

So Jackson didn’t leave just because he wanted to, Jaebum muses. The thought of Jackson, exhausted and hungover, going alone on a long flight to Hong Kong, makes Jaebum feel sick. He must have been so worried, but he never said anything. He went to that party anyways, even though he wasn’t exactly pleased with his teammates, probably because he had made a promise to be there and didn’t want to break it. He really is too good for them, Jaebum thinks. For anyone.

“He is coming back though, right?” Jaebum asks, just to be sure. Mark nods.

“As far as I know. He’s still enrolled for classes next semester, after all.”

“Well, thank you,” Jaebum says, rubbing the back of his neck. “For telling me all that.”

“No problem,” Mark says, smiling brightly. “Now you just have to figure out how to get him back.”

Easier said than done.

 

//

 

Jaebum has a new plan: sabotage Jackson with affection. Who cares if he’s in another country? Jaebum can still prove his dedication. They both have phones and the internet, after all. So he sends messages and makes phone calls, talking more than he ever has in his life. It’s going swimmingly; even though Jackson isn’t answering the calls or replying to the messages, Jaebum feels cathartic. Nothing like spilling your soul on a daily basis to shake off the cobwebs, so to speak.

It’s going well, until Mark calls Jaebum and tells him to cut it out.

“You know international roaming charges apply for incoming calls and messages too, right?” Mark asks. Jaebum did not know this. “He told me to tell you to stop. Also, he says you’ll be paying for his overages when he gets back.”

He sends one more message, apologizing profusely, and starts brainstorming a new plan.

“You could do a flash mob at the airport when he gets back!” Bambam enthuses, as they all sit around Mark’s apartment on Christmas Eve. Youngjae throws a pizza crust at him. “What? It’s a good idea!”

“The airport part is a good idea,” Jinyoung hums, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “You should meet him there when he gets back. Mark-hyung, do you have his flight information?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Mark says, pulling out his phone. “I’ll send it to you, Jaebum.”

“I think this should involve flowers somehow,” Yugyeom adds, chewing on a breadstick. “And balloons.”

“Is he visiting a relative in the hospital?” Bambam asks, smacking Yugyeom. He turns back to Jaebum, eyes alight. “You should make a sign! Like the kind chauffeurs hold up for rich people!”

“But what would it say on it?” Youngjae asks.

“Honey Thighs!” Yugyeom giggles. Jaebum glares at him. Yugyeom sticks his tongue out. Brat.

“Jackson would hate all of that,” Mark says, shaking his head as he pockets his phone. “It has to be something small, but big.”

“‘Small but big’? What does that even mean?” Jaebum groans, putting his face in his hands.

“Something that you put a lot of effort into, but that isn’t too showy or ostentatious,” Jinyoung elaborates. Mark squeezes his thigh in silent thanks. Jinyoung makes kissy faces at him. Everyone else groans.

“Write him a poem!” Bambam yells suddenly.

“Write him a _song,”_ Youngjae corrects.

“That works too,” Bambam says with a shrug.

“I don’t want to sing to him in the middle of the airport,” Jaebum says, wrapping his arms around himself awkwardly. Everyone is quiet for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

“What about a speech?” Youngjae asks, chewing on his lower lip. “Like, all the reasons you’re in love with him.”

“If you’re gonna do that, you should also have a speech about exactly how and why you’re sorry for what you did,” Jinyoung adds.

“And you should write it all down, so you don’t forget what you want to say,” Mark adds, nodding. “He’ll be impressed that you put so much thought into it.”

“Really?” Jaebum asks. “Do you think that will work?”

“If it’s super sappy and emotional, it’ll work,” Bambam says, rolling his eyes. The group murmurs their agreement.

“Okay, speech it is then,” Jaebum says. Now he just has to write it.

 

//

 

Writing a speech professing his love to Jackson turns out to be a lot harder than it sounds. He spends the rest of the break bent over a notebook, wracking his brains for eloquent thoughts that would win someone over.

“You’re not trying to win ‘someone’ over, you’re trying to win _Jackson_ over,” Jinyoung says when Jaebum whines to him. “Just be honest. How does Jackson make you feel?”

“We already had this conversation, and it did not end well,” Jaebum grumbles. Jinyoung purses his lips.

“Yes, and whose fault was that?”

Jaebum stops asking Jinyoung for advice.

Youngjae is a little more helpful; he tells Jaebum to listen to his favorite love songs for inspiration. That gives Jaebum about a page full of ideas. Mark tells Jaebum to search the internet for confession stories. Jaebum immediately dismisses the idea as ridiculous, but caves a mere hour later. He stays up all night reading story after story of grand proclamations of love and inside jokes turned into marriage proposals. When Jinyoung comes home in the morning, Jaebum is sitting in front of his laptop with bags under his eyes, crying silently into a cup of ramen. Jinyoung takes the computer away for a day.

Jaebum’s trip back home to visit his parents is probably not what they anticipated. He spends most of his time holed up in his room, writing everything that comes to mind, in case any of it turns out to be usable. His mother brings him food and peeks over the edge of the notebook, trying to see what he’s writing. He starts sleeping with the notebook under his pillow, just in case.

“Is something wrong?” his mother finally asks one morning over breakfast. His father has already left for work, leaving the two of them alone in the house. “You seem… obsessive, lately.”

“I’m just working on something important,” Jaebum says, shoveling food into his mouth in an attempt to get away from the table and this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Are you and Jinyoung back together?” his mother asks, arching an eyebrow. Jaebum chokes on his mouthful of rice.

“God, no!” he says, when he’s regained his breath. “I’m just--there’s this--it’s hard to explain.”

“I see,” she says, nodding slowly. Jaebum feels transparent. His mother always was too perceptive for Jaebum’s liking. (Just like Jackson, which Jaebum makes a mental note to add to his list later.) “Well, whoever it is, just remember that they’re always welcome here.”

“I know, Mom,” Jaebum groans in embarrassment. “As soon as we’re actually together, I promise I will introduce you. I just have to win him back first.”

His mother smiles, standing up from the table to give him a hug.

“You’ll do great, Jaebumie,” she says, petting his hair. “I just know it.”

Jaebum wishes he was as confident. When he gets back to his apartment a week later, he has several dozen pages full of ideas, and no idea how to condense them all into a short speech that Jackson will actually stick around long enough to listen to.

He gives his first draft to Jinyoung to read. It’s six pages long. Jinyoung pulls out a red pen and gets to work. By the end, there’s almost as much red ink on the pages as black.

“What did you _do?”_ Jaebum definitely does not shriek.

“I fixed it,” Jinyoung says airily, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was way too long, and your grammar was terrible.”

“Do you really think grammar is the most important thing here?” Jaebum asks. Jinyoung just shrugs, and Jaebum sighs, mentally preparing himself for the rewrite.

“It’s good, hyung,” Jinyoung says softly. Jaebum looks up from the pages, and Jinyoung is wearing a small, encouraging smile. “It’s really good. He’ll love it.”

Well, that’s something, at least.

 

//

 

Jaebum wakes up early the day of Jackson’s return flight. Jinyoung arrives to help him pick out his clothes (he chooses the maroon button-down shirt; Jaebum is hardly surprised) and calm him down. Jaebum is trying valiantly not to have a full-blown panic attack.

“What if he runs away?” Jaebum whines as Jinyoung buttons his shirt for him, because his fingers are shaking so bad that he just gave up.

“He won’t run away,” Jinyoung says. “He’s not a dog.”

“But he scares easily,” Jaebum insists, fidgeting until JInyoung smacks him into standing still. “And he’s a really fast runner. I’ll never catch him.”

 _“He won’t run away,”_ Jinyoung repeats, stepping back to take a look at his work. “Tuck your shirt in.” Jaebum obliges, and Jinyoung nods, satisfied. “Good. You’re ready.”

“I’m not ready,” Jaebum says, shaking his head. He wants to pull at his hair but it’s gelled into place and it took way too long getting it to look just right to mess it up now. He settles for popping his knuckles.

“You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. Do you have your letter?” Jinyoung asks. Jaebum pulls it out of his pocket and holds it up. “Good.” Jinyoung puts his hands on Jaebum’s shoulders and gives him a reassuring shake. “You can do this. I’ll be at Mark’s place today so you two can be alone. Don’t fuck it up.”

Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

The trip to the airport is excruciatingly long. He’s so anxious he can’t even focus on his music, and ends up yanking out his headphones after only a few minutes. By the end of the trip, he’s bitten off all of his fingernails.

Due to some traffic, he arrives at the airport only five minutes before Jackson’s plane lands. Jaebum can’t decide if this is a good or a bad thing, because he still has twenty minutes to wait for Jackson to make it through customs, but he had originally planned to have a solid thirty. It cuts his pacing time down drastically, and the loss increases his anxiety. He still manages to get a solid amount of pacing in, despite the time crunch. He feels better for it.

After he’s calmed down a bit (and after he’d gotten one too many judgmental stares from passersby), he stops pacing and stares at the terminal exit as people begin trickling through. The trickle eventually increases to a stream, and Jaebum starts to have a hard time checking each face that pushes past him. He settles for looking for people wearing hats, because Jackson would surely never travel without a snapback on. After what seems like an eternity, he spots a hat that looks familiar, with the word “DOPE” across the front in big, shiny letters. Through gaps in the crowd, Jaebum gets a glimpse of a jawline and a familiar sweatshirt, and he knows he’s found him.

“Jackson-ah!” Jaebum calls, watching the way his head snaps up and his eyes grow wide--in fear or recognition, Jaebum can’t tell. Jackson doesn’t move, seemingly frozen in place, so Jaebum half-jogs over to him, ignoring the annoyed glances of people forced to walk around the pair of them. Jackson looks up at him, and Jaebum is struck by how small he seems in the midst of this busy airport terminal. Jackson looks shocked and a little bit like he wants to bolt, and Jaebum briefly contemplates grabbing him just in case he tries to make a run for it. Jaebum waits a few moments for Jackson to speak, but nothing happens, so Jaebum tentatively asks, “How was your flight?”

“What are you doing here?” Jackson finally asks. The simple sentence makes Jaebum weak at the knees, because it’s been two weeks since he’s heard Jackson’s voice, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it. He feels like an alcoholic having a drink after years on the wagon--euphoric and guilty at the same time.

“Waiting for you,” Jaebum says, attempting a small smile.

“Why?” Jackson looks suspicious.

“Because I need to apologize,” Jaebum starts. His pulse is pounding in his ears. Weeks of practicing his speech, writing and rewriting, ripping it up and starting over, memorizing it. He hopes it was all worth it. It has to be, because it’s sincere, probably the most honest Jaebum’s ever been, and he hopes Jackson will be able to see that. “I never should have punched your friend. Even if I thought his behavior was inappropriate, it was not my place to step in, and certainly not to hit him. You know your friends better than I do, and I should have respected your judgment. I really fucked up, and I know that now. I’m sorry.”

Jackson’s look is critical, suspicious. “Why should I forgive you?”

“Because I love you.”

Jackson inhales sharply at that, but quickly collects himself. He shakes his head disbelievingly. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“I know. I was in a really weird mood that day, because of the conversation we had the night before, and I was only just starting to realize how much you mean to me, and I got drunk and overreacted.”

“Being drunk explains your actions, it doesn’t excuse them.”

“I know. I’d never drink again if you asked me to.”

“Really?” Jackson asks, his face softening a little. “You would do that?”

Jaebum laughs nervously. “I would do just about anything you asked me to, Jackson-ah.”

“Would you apologize to my friends?” Jackson asks. Jaebum clenches his jaw briefly, before taking a cleansing breath.

“Yes. I would.”

Jackson is quiet for a moment, watching him with an assessing gaze. Jaebum is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that they are in the middle of a busy airport, and this is probably not the best place to be having this conversation. Jackson chews at his lip as he stares at Jaebum, and Jaebum wants to kiss him more than he’s wanted just about anything in his life. Not yet, he scolds himself, Mark’s words ringing in his ears: _let him come to you._

“All right, you pass. You can unclench now,” Jackson says with a weak smile. “And I’m going to talk to them about boundaries, just so you know.”

“Really?” Jaebum suddenly feels like he could fly.

“You were right, they were taking advantage of me. But that doesn’t mean that anything you did was okay.”

“You deserve better,” Jaebum says.

Jackson smirks. “And that’s where you come in, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Jaebum says, feeling lightheaded with hope. “If you’ll let me.”

“Prove it.”

“Wait, I have a list,” Jaebum says, digging the paper out of his pocket. Jackson puts a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as Jaebum unfolds it. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything.”

“Go on, then,” Jackson says, dropping his hand to cross both arms expectantly over his chest.

“I love that you are so dedicated in everything you do, even dumb stuff like getting me to be physically fit.” Jackson laughs at that, and Jaebum feels his confidence increase exponentially. “I love how much you care about everyone and everything, all the time. I mean, that has to be exhausting. I don’t know how you do it. I don’t know how you do a lot of things you do, actually, especially putting up with me. I know I can be… difficult, sometimes. Well, a lot of the time.”

“I can’t believe you actually made a list, you dork,” Jackson interrupts. Jaebum looks up from his paper and notices that Jackson’s eyes are getting shiny. Jaebum clears his throat, searching for his ever-vanishing resolve, because this is important, dammit.

“Shh, I’m not done,” Jaebum says, averting his gaze back to his paper, because if Jackson starts crying, he’ll start crying, and then he’ll never finish. “I love your weird sense of humor, and your laugh, even if it hurts my eardrums sometimes. I love how patient you are with me, even when I’m being stupid. I love that you always try to hold my hand, even though I’m sometimes a dick and don’t want you to, but I still love it because it means you’re thinking about me.”

Jackson drops his bag to the floor and uses his hand to brush away a tear that slipped down his cheek. Jaebum takes a deep breath. Almost done.

“I love that you see something interesting in me that even I can’t see. I mean, I’m an accounting major, for fuck’s sake,” Jaebum says with a soggy laugh. “I’m boring. The most exciting thing about me before I met you was writing songs in a coffee shop on Friday afternoons. I love that about you too, that you make my life exciting, even when we’re not doing anything. And… that’s all I have on my list. But there’s more, I swear, more than I can fit on a piece of paper. These are just the first ones I thought of, and I didn’t know how long you’d let me talk, or if you’d let me talk at all, so… yeah.”

“That’s a pretty good speech,” Jackson says, and his voice is tight with emotion. He wipes away another tear.

“It’s not just a speech,” Jaebum insists. He takes a step closer, and Jackson doesn’t back away. “It’s true, all of it is true.”

Jackson looks up at him with red, watery eyes, and his face crumples a little bit. “I’m supposed to be forgetting about you.”

“How’s that going?” Jaebum asks, and he can’t help smiling as he says it.

“You’re making it really hard, when you do romantic shit like this,” Jackson sniffles.

“Do you want to forget about me?” Jaebum asks.

“No,” Jackson sobs, and then he’s throwing himself at Jaebum, and Jaebum is catching him and squeezing him tight. Jaebum starts crying, too, and realizes how weird a pair of men sobbing into each other’s arms must look, and also realizes that he doesn’t care. Jackson is in his arms again, and doesn’t that mean that his crazy scheme worked? Doesn’t that mean that everything is resolved? Doesn’t that mean that the last month of agony is over?

Jaebum holds him until Jackson cries himself out. After a while, Jackson sighs, and rests his head against Jaebum’s chest. Jaebum kisses the top of his snapback, just because he can.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Im Jaebum,” Jackson mumbles into Jaebum’s jacket.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Jaebum asks. Jackson pulls back and looks up at him.

“You are on probation,” Jackson announces, stabbing a finger at Jaebum’s chest. Jaebum attempts to nod solemnly, but joy and relief are exploding in his chest. “You have to prove all of this to me. I want public displays of affection, and presents, and elaborate dates. And massages!”

“Deal,” Jaebum says, taking a second to wipe away the wetness on his own cheeks. “Can I kiss you now?”

“You may,” Jackson says faux-haughtily. “And thank you for asking.”

The kiss is tentative at first, and a little bit awkward, because they’ve never actually kissed when both of them are sober. Jaebum doesn’t even remember their first kiss, and their second was… wet, to say the least, and he doesn’t even know what Jackson likes. He’s so nervous he can barely concentrate on the feeling of Jackson’s lips against his. His hands flutter uselessly at Jackson’s waist, and he keeps his eyes tightly shut because he doesn’t want to know if he’s fucking it all up. After a moment, Jackson’s hands settle gently on Jaebum’s face, and Jaebum can feel Jackson’s lips smiling against his own, and that’s all the invitation he needs to pull Jackson flush against him and devour him like he’s wanted to do for so long.

They separate eventually (separate being the barest definition of the word; Jaebum’s hands stay knotted in the fabric of Jackson’s sweatshirt, and Jackson’s arms come to rest draped around Jaebum’s neck), and Jaebum belatedly realizes that people are staring.

“We should go,” Jaebum says quietly. Jackson pouts a little, and Jaebum feels like his heart is going to explode with how much he loves this person. “Unless you want to live here. We can be like that movie we watched about the guy who lives in the airport, it’ll be great.”

Jackson rolls his eyes fondly and steps away, bending down to pick up his bag where he dropped it.

“Carry this,” Jackson says, passing the bag to Jaebum. Jaebum gladly takes the bag, even though it’s pretty heavy, because Jackson just kissed him and he would gladly walk through fire if it meant Jackson’s lips were waiting for him at the end of it. Jackson hooks his arm through Jaebum’s free one and leans his head a little against Jaebum’s shoulder as they go.

“You’re treating me to dinner, right?” Jackson asks, but his tone makes it clear that it’s not really a question. Jaebum smiles so wide his face hurts, because he missed this, he missed this so much.

“Of course,” Jaebum says as he leads them out to the line of taxis waiting outside the airport. He hadn’t actually made any dinner plans, because it would be too painful to sit down and eat dinner for two alone if Jackson rejected him, but if he’s learned anything since meeting Jackson, it’s how to think on his feet. “I could cook for you, if you want.”

“You don’t know how to cook,” Jackson says. When Jaebum looks over at him where he’s still clinging to Jaebum’s arm, his mouth is twitching with mirth. Jaebum fakes indignation.

“I can try.”

“That’s sweet, but I actually want to eat tonight.”

Jaebum just laughs and pulls him into a hug, cupping the back of Jackson’s head and holding it against his shoulder because _he can_ now and if that isn’t the greatest thing in the world, Jaebum doesn’t know what is.

“I missed you,” Jaebum mumbles into the crook of Jackson’s neck. He tries his hardest not to tear up again. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” Jackson says quietly, his voice muffled by the press of Jaebum’s shoulder. After a beat of silence, Jackson pulls away, and looks at Jaebum with watery eyes. “Can we go home now?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, soaking in the sight of Jackson for a moment because he never did this enough when he had the chance and like hell is he gonna waste it now. “Yeah, we can go home.”

Eventually they get a cab, and Jackson gets in to give the driver the address while Jaebum puts Jackson’s bag in the trunk. When Jaebum climbs into the back seat, Jackson reaches for him, pulling him close against his side. Jaebum wraps an arm around Jackson and tugs him until he’s resting in the crook of Jaebum’s shoulder. Jackson rests a hand on Jaebum’s stomach and sighs.

“This feels like a dream,” Jackson says, as the cab starts moving. He fingers the buttons of Jaebum’s shirt absentmindedly. “I feel like I’m going to wake up any minute now and you’ll be gone.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?” Jaebum asks, squeezing Jackson a little tighter, because he was thinking the same thing. Jackson just chuckles and shakes his head. Jaebum thinks for a moment. “Wait, I have an idea.”

Jaebum uses his free hand to dig his phone out of his pocket, and opens the front-facing camera.

“Smile,” Jaebum says, and Jackson obliges. Jaebum takes the photo, and pulls the phone close to his face to look at it. It’s just the two of them, fitted together like they were made for it, looking content and happy and _perfect._ He composes a new message to Jinyoung.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asks, watching as Jaebum attaches the photo and adds a caption.

“Making it real,” Jaebum says, and presses send.

“Three hundred and twenty-seven? What does that mean?”

Jaebum smiles. “Let me show you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 12,919 words :'D I worked really hard on it, guys. I worked REALLY HARD. Ask anyone.
> 
> Thank you for waiting. I love you. Epilogue coming soon ^^


	7. Epilogue

One month later

 

The sound of the key in the lock rouses Jaebum from his post-coital nap. Jackson is still sleeping next to him, sprawled out on his stomach, completely naked, despite Jaebum’s insistence that he put on clothes in case Jinyoung comes home. Jackson says that he prefers to be free, like nature intended, and that if Jinyoung gets a glimpse of his marvellous ass then that’s simply a bonus for Jinyoung. Jinyoung tends to disagree. Jaebum just manages to throw a blanket over Jackson before the door opens and Jinyoung enters their studio apartment, eyebrows shooting higher with each step.

“Again?” Jinyoung asks, nonplussed. His shock dissolves immediately into disgust as his face wrinkles up and he throws an arm over his nose. His next words are muffled, but the disdain shines through clear as day. “Oh god, it reeks like sex in here.”

Jackson finally stirs at the noise, flipping over onto his back and stretching with a loud moan that gives Jaebum flashbacks to about twenty minutes earlier.

“Hey, Jinyoung-ah,” Jackson says, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to his waist, revealing his muscular torso. Jaebum can’t help but reach out and rub a palm lovingly down the planes of Jackson’s back, causing Jackson to arch into the touch with another, smaller moan. Jaebum looks at the muscles as they shift under his boyfriend’s skin and marvels at them. He loves this back. He loves this body. He loves this person. Jackson, finally fully awake, strikes a sexy pose in Jinyoung’s general direction. “Wanna join us for round two?”

Jinyoung gags, looking appalled, and heads to the closet. He opens his side of it (which Jaebum notices is getting rather empty) and pulls down his suitcase from the top shelf, into which he begins to toss whatever clothes he can grab.

“I can’t even spend time in my own apartment,” Jinyoung huffs, throwing jeans and sweaters into the suitcase with increasing vigor. “I never know when I’m going to walk in on something that will scar me for life.”

“You could message us ahead of time, you know,” Jaebum says, grabbing Jackson’s shoulder and tugging until he falls back against Jaebum’s chest, snuggling against him instantly, much to Jinyoung’s continued distaste. “That’s what I did whenever you had Mark over.”

“I did!” Jinyoung nearly shrieks. “Half an hour ago!”

Jaebum uses the hand that’s not wrapped around Jackson’s shoulder to search for his phone. He finds it under his pillow, and sure enough, there’s a message from Jinyoung.

 **pepi_jy_:** _Put your dick away, I’m coming over for clean clothes._

“Oh,” Jaebum says dumbly. He locks the phone and tosses it aside, putting his free hand back on Jackson’s body, where it belongs. “I must not have heard it. We were… busy.”

Jackson giggles. Jinyoung groans in frustration, slamming the suitcase shut and zipping it.

“You two are disgusting together. I have no idea why I thought the two of you dating would make my life easier. I was wrong. I was horribly, horribly wrong.”

“It’s a taste of your own medicine, Jinyoung-ah,” Jackson says, nestling his head into the crook of Jaebum’s shoulder. “Four months ago, we were all suffering through the beginnings of MarkJin.”

“We were never this bad,” Jinyoung insists, heading to the desk, where he begins loading up his backpack with all of his textbooks and notes. “You guys spend all of your free time here.”

“We’re not _always_ having sex when we’re here, Jinyoung. We’re not rabbits,” Jaebum points out. “Also, what’s worse: frequent sex in a locked apartment, or constant, disgustingly cute public displays of affection?”

“Sex is worse,” Jinyoung huffs, zipping up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Don’t be such a prude, Jinyoung-ah,” Jackson coos, lips quirking mischievously. “I spent enough nights on that couch, listening to you two making the mattress squeak to know you’re a little more open-minded than that. ‘Oh, Mark!’” Jackson moans in a high-pitched, fluttery voice. “‘Oh, hyung! Right there! Don’t st--’”

Jinyoung grabs a pad of sticky notes from the desk and whips it at Jackson’s head, causing him to erupt in hyena-like laughter. Jinyoung grabs his suitcase from the floor and heads to the door, ducking his face in an attempt to hide the way it’s blooming bright red.

“I hate you both,” he says, opening the door. “I’m moving in with Mark-hyung. You two deserve each other.”

“Do you think he really means it this time?” Jackson asks with a grin after the door slams loudly.

“Nah,” Jaebum says with a shrug. He flips Jackson under him, more interested in what Jackson was saying about round two than he is about Jinyoung throwing another temper tantrum.

The next day in the cafeteria, Mark and Jinyoung arrive late. They set their trays down silently, looking solemn. Jaebum shoots a questioning look at Youngjae, who shrugs, seemingly clueless. Jackson grabs Jaebum’s hand under the table and gives it a squeeze. Something must be up, if Jackson's reacting already. Jaebum is constantly amazed at Jackson's ability to gauge social situations with astounding accuracy.

“We need to talk about our living arrangements,” Jinyoung says delicately, as though he’d rehearsed it. He steeples his fingers like a CEO in a drama, elbows resting on the table. “Mark-hyung and I thought we could have a civil discussion about some things that need to change. Youngjae here can act as mediator.”

“I never agreed to that,” Youngjae says, eyebrows raising in alarm as his eyes dart back and forth between the two couples. Poor Youngjae has been the fifth wheel for about a month, and all he’s gotten out of it is the chance to practice his eye rolls and a highly refined sense of sarcasm. Jaebum would feel bad for him, but he’s landed a few hits to Jaebum’s pride in recent times and Jaebum is loathe to forget it. Apparently, no one is off-limits when Choi Youngjae is irritated.

“What’s wrong with our living arrangements?” Jaebum asks, already defensive. If this is going to turn into an discussion about his sex life, he fully plans on getting up and walking away, nutrition be damned.

“Jackson is always at our apartment,” Jinyoung says, letting exasperation color his composure. “That room is not big enough for three people. There’s just not enough space, and I never know when I'll have time to study because your... activities are so sporadic.”

“Are you suggesting we _schedule--”_ Jaebum starts, sputtering in disbelief, but Jackson quickly cuts him off with a squeeze of his hand.

“So we’ll just spend more time at my place,” Jackson says, shrugging. Jinyoung bites his lip.

“We had a better idea,” Jinyoung says slowly, eyes darting over to Mark for support. Mark is doing a very good job of pretending he’s not there at all. “What if you kept spending time at our apartment, and I… stopped spending time there.”

“You already do that,” Jackson says, befuddled. Youngjae pulls out his phone, pointedly ignoring what's happening in front of him. Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I mean, what if all of my things were at Mark’s apartment--”

“They already are,” Jackson interrupts.

“--and all of your things were at Jaebum-hyung’s apartment,” Jinyoung finishes, looking expectant. Jaebum figures it out. Jackson doesn’t. He looks at Jaebum, confusion knotting his brow. Jaebum swears he sees a hint of comprehension in his eyes, though. If he could read Jackson's mind, he thinks it would be saying _play along._

“We’re kicking you out,” Mark blurts out. Jackson gasps. Mark’s eyes widen in terror. “That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? I'm sorry.”

“You’re kicking me out? After all we’ve been through?” Jackson asks, hand placed over his heart. Jaebum legitimately can’t tell if he’s being overdramatic, or if he’s actually that offended. He thinks for probably the hundredth time that Jackson would make a great con artist, if he really put his mind to it.

“Jackson, when was the last time you spent the night at your own apartment?” Jinyoung asks, clearly attempting another tactic, since Mark so eloquently fucked up their first strategy. “Can you even remember?”

Jackson’s brow wrinkles in concentration. “Thursday? I think.”

“Today is Monday,” Jinyoung deadpans. “Don’t you think it’s safe to say you don’t really live in that apartment any more?”

“I guess,” Jackson admits.

“So what do you say, hyung?” Jinyoung asks, looking at Jaebum. Jaebum shrugs.

“Sure, why not?” He nudges Jackson. “Hey, wanna move in with me?”

“Wow,” Jackson says, feigning hurt (at least Jaebum thinks he’s feigning it), “I thought you’d be a little more romantic than that, when you asked me to to move in with you.”

“You thought about that?” Jaebum asks, suddenly unable to keep himself from smiling. He still gets that happy-sick feeling in his stomach sometimes, when Jackson says stuff like that. Something about the fact that Jackson thinks about him romantically, thinks about their future together, makes Jaebum go absolutely weak at the knees. Jackson rolls his eyes fondly and leans against Jaebum’s side.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” Jackson says. “I was just hoping you’d ask me before those two got up the nerve to kick me out.”

Mark looks back and forth between Jinyoung and Jackson as Jackson’s smile twists evilly. After a moment of shock, Jinyoung groans in exasperation, leaning forward to thunk his head on the table.

“Excellent performance,” Youngjae says, slow clapping. “One of your best.”

“You knew this whole time?” Mark sputters. “You were just messing with us? I thought I’d hurt your feelings!”

“Gotta make you work for it, Markie-poo,” Jackson says with a wink. “Also, you left a webpage called ‘How to Get Your Roommate to Move Out’ up on the computer a week ago. Really subtle.”

 

//

 

They officially make the move that weekend. Despite Jackson’s bravado when the topic was brought up, he cries when Jinyoung packs up the last of his things. He also cries when he packs his own things (a herculean task; apparently Jackson is somewhat of a hoarder), and he cries again as he and Jaebum unpack together. He insists on referring to his exodus from Mark’s apartment as “the divorce,” which Jinyoung finds endlessly amusing because it makes Jaebum clench his jaw every time, like classical conditioning. (Jinyoung likes to point out that Jaebum's behavior is as predictable as one of Pavlov’s dogs. Jaebum wishes he wasn't friends with a psychology major.)

Their first night alone together, Jaebum treats Jackson to his favorite things: cheese-laden foods, Chinese variety shows that Jaebum can’t understand, and a moderate amount of odd animal friendships videos (there’s a fine line between “enough cute videos to make him happy” and “so many cute videos that he starts crying” that Jaebum hasn’t quite figured out yet).

Jaebum drifts off to sleep at some point, because there’s only so much foreign TV a person can take before they start to get drowsy. When he wakes, it’s the middle of the night, and Jackson is shaking him gently.

“Jaebum?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.” Jackson’s voice is small and uncertain.

If Jackson in the daytime is spitfire and sunshine and affection, then Jackson after midnight is vulnerability and doubt and need. Any negative comment or tone of voice will take hold in his mind like a parasite, latching on with razor sharp teeth and sucking out his confidence ounce by ounce for days or weeks or months until there's nothing left. Jaebum knows this now, knows that daytime Jackson doesn’t always like to say those three words out loud, but prefers to show them, through touches and gifts and acts of kindness. Nighttime Jackson says those words as a supplication. “I love you” isn’t a statement, it’s a question: Do you still love me? Will you still love me tomorrow? Will you still like me next week? Next month? Will you stay?

“I love you too, Jackson-ah,” Jaebum says, pulling him in close. He plants a kiss on the crown of Jackson’s head. Jackson stills but doesn’t relax.

“Will you love me forever?”

Jaebum hesitates. He's made a vow with himself that he'll never lie to Jackson, and he isn't planning on starting now, but forever is a long time.

“I can try,” he says eventually. It's the best he can do.

“That'll work,” Jackson says, snuggling closer until his ear rests over Jaebum's heart. He says that the sound of it beating helps him fall asleep. Jaebum loves that so much it almost hurts, that his heartbeat brings Jackson calm. Jackson sighs, melting against Jaebum's body. “I'll try too.”

 

//

 

A week later, the door slamming shut startles Jaebum out of his afternoon nap. He looks up to see Jackson standing there, staring at him in shock.

“What?” Jaebum mumbles, barely awake.

“Are you kidding me?” Jackson nearly shouts, storming into the apartment. “We have to be at Mark and Jinyoung’s for the housewarming party in fifteen minutes, and you’re not ready?”

“Oh yeah,” Jaebum says, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “I was so tired after class. I guess I just fell asleep.”

“You went to the store and got the things I asked you to pick up, though, right?” Jackson asks, hurriedly stripping down to his boxers and opening his side of the closet to look for nicer clothes. Jaebum freezes. He definitely forgot to pick up the list of alcohol and snacks Jackson had messaged him. Jackson turns around slowly, eyes widening in horror. “You didn’t.”

Jaebum covers his face with his hands and groans. “I did.”

“Jaebum! Remember this morning? When I told you I couldn’t pick up the stuff Mark needed for the party, because I had to stay late at school for the--”

“For the fencing meeting,” Jaebum finishes, shame pooling in his stomach. “I remember.”

“So I messaged you the list? And _two_ reminders? And you _still_ forgot?” Jackson stands in front of the closet in his boxers, clothes forgotten, pulling at his hair anxiously. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“C’mere,” Jaebum mumbles, sitting up and motioning Jackson over. Jackson looks at him warily, and Jaebum rolls his eyes. “Come _here.”_

“What, is it a secret or something?” Jackson grumbles, but he moves anyways, stomping across the little room until he’s next to their bed. Jaebum grabs his hand and pulls, using the element of surprise to bring Jackson toppling down onto his chest. Ignoring Jackson’s noises of protest, Jaebum flips them, so he’s above Jackson, hands on either side of his head.

“How did the fencing meeting go?” Jaebum asks, purposely lowering his voice in the way Jackson really likes. Jackson scoffs and turns his head away. Jaebum leans his weight on one hand, and uses the other to gently grab Jackson’s chin and bring his focus back. “Tell me, I really want to know. Did you get it?”

“I got it,” Jackson says quietly, lowering his eyes. The barest hint of a smile turns up one corner of his mouth. “I got team captain.”

“Jackson-ah! That’s amazing!” Jaebum says, ducking in for a slow kiss. Jackson allows it at first, but quickly turns his head, cutting Jaebum off.

“I’m not falling for this again,” Jackson huffs. Jaebum sees the tilt of Jackson’s head as an opportunity for better access to his neck, and sets to work with lips and tongue under Jackson’s jawline. When Jackson speaks, the vibrations of his throat tickle Jaebum’s nose. “I’m really annoyed with you. It won’t work this time.”

Jaebum just hums against the soft skin of his throat, causing Jackson to shudder, and sucks a mark into his skin. Jackson gasps.

“Really… it’s not… working…”

Jaebum pulls up so he can see Jackson’s face. “Congratulations.”

Jackson’s expression softens a little.

“Thank you. But I’m still mad at you.”

“I love you.”

Jackson melts, eyes going soft and affectionate.

“Don’t think you can say that every time you want to get out of trouble and expect it to work,” Jackson pouts.

“Why not?” Jaebum asks, grinning as he dives back down to nibble at Jackson’s earlobe. “It’s working now.”

“As soon as the novelty of that phrase wears off, you are up shit creek without a paddle,” Jackson mutters as Jaebum works down the side of his neck again.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, you don’t? And why is that?”

“I’m very… creative.”

“I’m sure you are,” Jackson laughs, as Jaebum blows on his ear. He wrestles Jaebum off of him and flips them so he’s on top, straddling Jaebum’s hips with his thighs and resting his palms on Jaebum’s chest. “What are we going to do? We have to be there, like, now, and we don’t have all the stuff Mark asked us to bring.”

“We’ll be fashionably late,” Jaebum says with a shrug. “We’ll stop at the convenience store on the way and they’ll be so happy that alcohol has arrived that they’ll barely even notice we were late at all. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but if Jinyoung gives me that _look,_ I’m throwing you under the bus,” Jackson says, leaning down for a quick peck on the lips before hopping off of Jaebum and heading back to the closet to get dressed.

They make it to the party, arms fully loaded with supplies, only half an hour later than they had initially intended. Their tardiness is hardly acknowledged, however, because Jinyoung intentionally assigned them to bring the backup refreshments. The primary refreshments he purchased himself, days ago. Typical.

“That would've been nice to know,” Jaebum says, upon realizing that the party is fully underway without need for their participation at all. “We did all that hurrying for nothing.”

“You're thirty minutes late,” Jinyoung says, rolling his eyes. “If that's your definition of hurrying, I don't want to know what it's like when you take your time.”

“Well, anyways, we’re here now, and ready to party!” Jackson announces, throwing his arms in the air. Jaebum wraps his arm around Jackson’s waist and pulls him in close. Jinyoung eyes them warily.

“You’re not going to just sit in the corner making cow eyes at each other all night, are you?”

“Of course not,” Jackson says.

“We are physically capable of spending time apart, Jinyoung,” Jaebum informs him. Jaebum is an independent man. Just because he's mildly obsessed with his boyfriend doesn't mean he's incapable of behaving normally at a social function.

Jinyoung gives him a sardonic look. “Then why is your hand in Jackson's back pocket?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jaebum says, very sneakily removing his hand from said pocket. Jinyoung rolls his eyes again. Jaebum hopes they get stuck up there.

“Whatever. Just… socialize, please? Don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“Fine,” Jaebum grumbles. As soon Jinyoung walks away, though, he puts his hand back in Jackson's pocket. Jackson shoots him an unimpressed look. “What? My fingers are cold.”

“Sure they are,” Jackson says, but he wraps his arm around Jaebum's waist anyways. “I don't know why you're being so possessive today. It's not like I fall in love at every party I go to. It was literally just that one time.”

Jaebum says nothing, just pulling Jackson in close for a kiss on the cheek. He loves it when Jackson talks about falling in love with him. He loves it when Jackson talks, period.

Jaebum stays glued to Jackson's side all night, because although the rational side of him is constantly chanting _Jackson loves you calm down,_ the irrational side sees every smile sent Jackson's way and screams _competition!_ Eventually Jackson has to physically remove Jaebum from his personal space and banish him to the couch on the other side of the room for a while.

“What are you doing over here?” Mark asks, plopping down next to Jaebum.

“I’m in a time-out,” Jaebum begrudgingly informs him.

“Really?” Mark asks, not even trying to hide his amusement. “What did you do?”

“Apparently I was being too clingy,” Jaebum says. He definitely isn't pouting. “Apparently Jackson is a ‘social butterfly’ and I was ‘pinning his wings.’ I’m not allowed to touch, talk to, or hover near him for half an hour.”

“How long has it been?” Mark asks. Jaebum pulls out his phone and checks it.

“Eight minutes.”

“That’s too bad,” Mark says, but he doesn’t seem like he means it at all. He turns to scan the room, and calls out when he spots his target. “Jinyoungie! C’mere!”

“What’s up?” Jinyoung asks as he approaches. Mark pats his lap, and Jinyoung takes a seat, slinging his arms around Mark’s neck.

“Jaebumie is in a time-out,” Mark informs him, shit-eating grin firmly applied. Jaebum rankles at the pet name, but even more so at the look of unadulterated joy that crosses Jinyoung’s face.

“Is this about the make-out session I saw you attempting to initiate while Jackson was talking to someone else?”

“It may or may not be about that,” Jaebum quietly admits. The guy kept staring at Jackson’s thighs. Jaebum can hardly be blamed for trying to get the message across that Jackson is taken. Jackson apparently disagrees with that logic.

“How much longer?”

Jaebum checks his phone again. “Twenty minutes.”

“Wait,” Mark says, reaching out a hand. “Let me see your phone.”

“What? No,” Jaebum says, cradling it to his chest, out of Mark’s reach.

“Is your lockscreen a picture of Jackson?” Mark asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Let me guess, your home screen is picture of him too?”

“That’s really not any of your business,” Jaebum sniffs. Jinyoung laughs, head tossed back, eye wrinkles present in full force. Jaebum thinks he’s seen Jinyoung laugh more in the last two months than he has in the past two years. It’s nice.

“Don’t be too embarrassed, hyung,” Jinyoung says, after he composes himself. “I’m the background on Mark-hyung’s phone too.”

“Traitor,” Mark mumbles, ducking his head shyly. Jinyoung pecks him on the cheek and hops off of his lap.

“Can I get you a drink at least?” Jinyoung asks Jaebum. “Since you’re grounded, and all.”

“I can’t have any more. I’m only allowed two drinks per hour,” Jaebum mutters. Jinyoung arches an eyebrow. Mark bites his lip to hide his smile.

“Let me get this straight,” Jinyoung says, barely containing his glee. “He put you in a time out for being too affectionate, he’s the background on your phone in two places, and he’s restricting your alcohol consumption and you’re actually obeying him?”

“And I thought I was whipped,” Mark says with a laugh.

“You are whipped,” Jinyoung says fondly, ruffling Mark’s hair. “You’re just more subtle about it. Come on, let’s go mingle.”

Mark follows, promising to sneak him a drink soon. Jaebum sits and waits and jiggles his leg, watching Jackson bring a small audience to raucous laughter across the room. He makes himself laugh, too, which is one of Jaebum's favorite things about him. Almost everything about Jackson is Jaebum's favorite, though. The more time they spend together and the more he learns about Jackson, the harder he falls. Jackson is a walking contradiction: spacey at times but freakishly intelligent, fiercely protective but so vulnerable himself, seemingly simple but also infinitely complex. Jaebum thinks he couldn't find a better person to fall in love with if he spent his whole life looking. He’s whipped, but he kind of loves it.

Mark sneaks him a shot of soju, and then Jinyoung sneaks him another a few minutes later, and Jaebum turns to his phone for entertainment. The alcohol is just starting to make his head pleasantly fuzzy as he tries (and fails) to pass the next level of the game Youngjae installed on his phone, when he notices someone scooting closer to him on the couch until their legs are lined up together, hip to knee, denim to denim. Jaebum knows that denim. It's the pair of jeans he picked out, because he likes the way they stretch just right over Jackson's thighs. He looks up into those big brown eyes, and warmth floods his entire body.

“Hey, handsome,” Jackson murmurs, acting coy. “Come here often?”

“What are you doing here?” Jaebum asks, checking his phone for the time before pocketing it. “I'm grounded for four more minutes.”

“You just looked so pathetic over here, I decided to end it early,” Jackson says, nestling himself into the crook of Jaebum's shoulder and resting his hand on Jaebum's thigh. “And maybe I missed you a little.”

Jaebum pulls Jackson closer and nuzzles his nose against Jackson's ear. “I missed you too.”

“Do you remember the night we met?” Jackson asks. “It was right here.”

“I don't remember much, honestly,” Jaebum admits, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I remember you getting up in my space. I remember being called boring--”

“I never said that!” Jackson protests. Jaebum laughs.

“I'm pretty sure you did. And I remember thinking you had pretty nice lips for someone who talks so much. And thighs. Great thighs.”

“I remember thinking you were way out of my league,” Jackson says with a weak laugh. He gives Jaebum's thigh a squeeze.

“You were wrong,” Jaebum says fiercely. He stares Jackson down, hoping his words are convincing enough to fight Jackson's personal demons. “You were so, so wrong.”

“I know,” Jackson says, eyes dancing with amusement. “If anything, it's the other way around.” Jaebum pulls back, affronted, and Jackson laughs. “Kidding! You're a catch, Im Jaebum. Now, are you going to behave yourself?”

“Yes, I am,” Jaebum promises, standing up from the couch and pulling Jackson up with him.

“Good. There are some people I want you to meet. And don't think I didn't see Mark and Jinyoung sneaking you drinks. You are officially cut off. I'm not dragging you home like the first time.”

“Fine, but we're both sleeping in tomorrow,” Jaebum bargains. “No gym, no early bird breakfast. Neither of us are getting out of bed before ten. Deal?”

Jackson grins. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS FINISHED. FINALLY.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and giving kudos and recommending it to your friends and commenting and UGH I JUST LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH. You guys kept me going. Really, truly.
> 
> Shoutout to Nydia_ahgase89 and Ran_sensei for commenting on literally every chapter. I mean, like, wow. That's dedication.
> 
> Shoutout to defwang/birdsintokyo for recommending this to her huge follower base?? More than once?? This fic would not have gotten the attention it did without you, so thank you.
> 
> Shoutout to Emma/LegitimatelyLiteral for being my beta for chapters 5 & 6\. You got me through some tricky plot problems, and as always, you are the human embodiment of the red squiggly line for catching typos. Thank you.
> 
> My biggest, best shoutout to Tess, to whom this fic is dedicated. This fic wouldn't have happened without you. If you want hear all the mushy stuff about how much I love you, hit me up later. I'll be awake.
> 
> You can find me at peachy-jy.tumblr.com. If you wanna talk about fic or Got7 in general or just shoot the shit, my ask box and messages are always open <3 thanks again, everyone!!


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